Meritocracy
by MadnessJones
Summary: G1: The Coneheads knew from the moment they were joined together that they were destined for greatness. They were wrong. Conehead origin story. No pairings.
1. The Trining Ceremony

_Author's Notes: This is an idea I've had for a while now. Finally I'm getting around to it: the Coneheads' origin story! This chapter is the one scene I knew I wanted to do from the beginning, but as far as what's coming next, well, anything could happen. I hope this goes over well, because I think it's a good idea. I tend to do well with origin stories, and this'll be my 3rd one! Please review, favorite, and/or follow if you want to read more of this fic :)_

* * *

Chapter 1

The Trining Ceremony

Thrust stood on the platform as the three older seekers rushed around his frame polishing and buffing him for his big day. His father and his father's trine had been overjoyed to see this day, the day their little Thrust would be forever joined to his new trine brothers.

Thrust didn't want to disappoint them. The war was going on in full swing. Decepticon forces were gaining ground, but there had also been a lot of casualties. Vos had been destroyed when Thrust was just a sparkling, and his family had moved from unit to unit ever since. They needed good news, and if the upcoming trining made Thrust's family happy, then who was he to tell them he didn't want to do it?

"You need some jewels on your wings," Puff Smoke, his father's trine commander, said as he appraised the young red seeker's frame, "Maybe some sapphires to show off your colors."

"I don't like jewelry..." Thrust said in a voice that sounded too whiny even by his own standards.

"Don't talk back to Puff Smoke, young mech!" His father, Overdrive, commanded him, "If he gets you sapphires then you'll wear them! Won't you, Thrust?"

"Yes, Father," Thrust replied timidly.

Thrust tried to keep a brave face, but too many questions burned in his processor. His father and uncles had arranged his trine mates for him when he was still just a sparkling, but he had never once met either of them. He knew he was going to be the left in formation just as his father and grandfather both had been. He knew his new commander's name would be Ramjet, and the right wing would be Dirge. Those names meant nothing to him though. He never met them, yet as of this day he would be their trine mate forever.

Part of the trining ceremony involved surgery. The left and right wings were both expected to take on the physical characteristics of their leader. Whatever Ramjet looked like, that was what Thrust was soon going to look like, and there was nothing he could do about it short of running away and being an outcast.

He would never do that though. Thrust wasn't the type to disobey orders. He only went against the tide when his own spark was at stake. Thrust hated to admit this, even to himself, but he was a coward. He would go through with this because he feared his family's disapproval. He would remain in the Decepticon fleet because he feared his commanding officers. He would flee most Autobot attacks because he feared dying.

"Thrust," Turbine, his right uncle, gently called to him, "The ceremony isn't for several joors yet. The catering will be here soon. Do you have any special requests for the feast?"

Thrust couldn't help but smile. His father and Puff Smoke might've been rough, but Turbine was always so tender toward him. Thrust didn't understand how such a docile seeker could be such an efficient soldier.

"Um, can we get some copper sweeties?" Thrust asked shyly.

"Are you kidding?" Puff Smoke bellowed, "That low-end stuff for a trining ceremony? Ramjet comes from money, Thrust! You can get something better than that!"

"He's not rich, Puff Smoke. We're just poor," Overdrive reminded him.

"We are _not_ poor!" Puff Smoke shouted in vehement denial, "Overdrive, fly home and get the heirloom box! I think I have some of grandfather's old sapphires in there. Thrust, this is the most important day of your life and you will look the part of a proud seeker! When you take your place in the center of the room I want to see you at your best! You will smile at the crowd, and lower your wings respectfully at your new trine commander! Don't shame us out there, boy!"

"Yes, sir," Thrust bowed in deference, "Um, if I may ask, I mean, um...What does Ramjet look like?"

The older seekers sighed in unison, and Puff Smoke gave the young jet-former a disapproving look. It was taboo for a seeker to ever ask about the appearance of their promised trine brothers. It was considered shallow and selfish to care about the frame of your future trine. Thrust ducked his helm and didn't bring it up again. He would know soon enough anyway.

* * *

Walking to the Unification Hall was taking _forever_. Dirge wanted to fly, but his grandsire had no antigravity technology installed. Dirge's grandsire was a neutral, and also not a seeker. He was a carrier frame type, and Dirge also had 6 symbiote uncles attending the trining ceremony.

Dirge stopped for probably the tenth time to wait for his grandsire to catch up to him. Dirge just wanted to get this over with. He had always preferred being alone, but his late sire had arranged a trining when he was just a sparkling, and he didn't want to disrespect the dead mech's final wishes.

Dirge thought things couldn't go any slower, but then he saw his grandsire stop to talk to someone else on the street! Ugh! Didn't the old mech know Dirge was in a hurry?

"Hello, Tug. How is your family?" Dirge's grandsire said in a friendly tone of voice.

"Terrific, Stereopticon!" The other mech replied, "We've got a new addition on the way soon. So, how is your family?"

"Busy," Stereopticon replied with a nod of his helm, "Dirge is getting trined today. Would you like to come? You can bring the wife and sparklings. Seeker trining ceremonies always have big feasts at the end. Personally, I can't wait. I haven't had decent energon since that one time I accidentally got some other mech's mail and it had a coupon for free midgrade inside."

Dirge groaned softly and waited on the other side of the street for his grandsire to finish talking. He thought about leaving without him, but he could never do that to his grandsire. He might not have liked the old mech's company, but his grandsire was still the only one left in his life he cared about. Even his Cassetticon uncles were just pains in the aft most of the time. It was strange for him to think that his mother had been a Cassetticon. She barely came up to his father's knees in their family photos!

Finally, Stereopticon finished his conversation and slowly made his way back to his grandson. Dirge was afraid someone might run the poor mech over, but there wasn't a lot of traffic this time of night. Dirge took his grandsire by the arm to make sure this time they kept moving.

"You didn't shine your frame," Stereopticon noticed once he was close enough.

"My new trine is stuck with me no matter what I do. I didn't see the point," Dirge told him in a slightly annoyed tone of voice.

"I know you're stressed, Dirge," Stereopticon replied sympathetically, "It'll be alright. They're both lucky to have you, and I'm sure they'll love you. I hope you get along with them, since they'll become part of the family. I also hope they don't think having a carrier in-law is too strange."

"That reminds me," Dirge said with an edge to his voice, " _Do_ _not_ get separated from me. Most of the guests will be Decepticons just as I am. They won't hesitate to attack a neutral. You need to stay by my side until the very last moment. You can't get in the unification circle with me, but stay as close as you can within reason, and don't let Spinreel, Pain Wire, Twister, Forge, Shellshock, or Hummer out of your chest compartment until the feast. By then all anyone will care about is getting crashed on high grade energon. Just be careful, and be aware of your surroundings."

"Dirge, I understand your concern, but I'll be fine. I've survived this long, haven't I?" Stereopticon pointed out, "Just focus on your ceremony tonight. Spit shine or no, you're still going to be the best looking seeker in there."

"Yeah, until the surgery," Dirge rolled his optics, "I bet Ramjet has a blockhead. Or maybe he'll be one of those with a tiny wingspan. Oh no, what if he has fins on his legs? Those are so gaudy!"

His grandsire laughed without really meaning to. He couldn't help it. Dirge was usually so calm and collected. This trining business had the navy blue and grey mech worked up into a frenzy. Dirge tried to pretend this didn't bother him, but Stereopticon knew better. He also wished his son-in-law hadn't insisted on arranging this union before he died. It was obvious Dirge didn't want this, but he wouldn't back down now even if his grandsire tried to stop him.

* * *

The room selected for the ceremony was not the biggest one in the Unification Hall, but it was pretty close. It was a series of passageways that led to a large circular room with a blue steel floor that was ornately decorated with the scripts of the seeker trine vows. Thrust was grateful that engraving was there. If he forgot what to say he could just look at the floor. Probably not the best subject to think about in such an awe inspiring room.

The guests were already there, but Thrust was still in one of the passageways. He wasn't supposed to come out until his name was called by Ramjet. He still didn't see Ramjet or Dirge. Not that he would know what they looked like if he did see them. He looked around the crowd, and saw a short round-shaped seeker with lots of tiny horns and a long nose cone protruding from his face. He _really_ hoped that wasn't Ramjet.

Thrust looked at the guests. It was nice to see that a lot of them were friends of his father's trine, as well as fellow soldiers from Thrust's unit. He might have to spend the rest of his life with two unknown elements, but at least he was surrounded by friends and relatives.

He scanned the crowd to look for unfamiliar faces. He was surprised that he knew most of these mechs and femmes. He found a few strangers near the back of the crowd. None of them were seekers. That was odd. He saw two carriers, a few cassettes, a boat-former, five car-formers, a crane-former, and a deep space shuttle. He wondered how many were Ramjet's friends and how many were Dirge's. He also wondered where the creators of his trine brothers were. He didn't see anyone that could be them.

Thrust checked himself in the mirror one last time. His dark red and grey frame was accentuated by delicate sapphires welded onto his wings and arms. Puff Smoke insisted on it. His armor was waxed, buffed, and polished to perfection. He would probably never be this clean again given the fighting conditions he worked under. He took a cloth to his yellow optics just to make sure. He hoped Ramjet didn't mind that they weren't red. Red optics with red paint just seemed silly.

A gong resonated throughout the room, and the crowds grew silent and drew closer together. Oh, _pit_! This was it! He would finally get his first look at his trine!

A white and dark grey mech took center stage with a look of fierce dominance on his face plate. Thrust's optics went wide as he realized this was Ramjet. It was worse than he thought. Ramjet had a cone-shaped head and huge fins on his legs! He was ugly, and soon Thrust would be ugly too!

"Come to me, Dirge and Thrust!" Ramjet commanded; his voice echoing throughout the cavernous room.

The atmosphere felt darker than it had a moment ago to Thrust. Sure, there weren't many lights on before, but now it _felt_ dark. This was supposed to be a new beginning to Thrust's young life, but he felt like his life was ending. Ramjet looked cruel, and his frame was hideous.

Thrust made it to Ramjet's left, and he saw Dirge standing with an expressionless gaze on Ramjet's right. Dirge looked creepy, and he gave off a wavelength that scared Thrust to the point of wanting to run away. He looked up at Ramjet's face, and saw that their leader was twitching slightly. Apparently Dirge's fear-mongering noises were making the white seeker uncomfortable as well.

"I, Ramjet, claim these seekers as my trine," Ramjet recited the oath from memory, "Where I fly, they fly. Their triumphs are my triumphs, and their dishonor is my dishonor. We shall crush our enemies, and draw closer from the experience. We are no longer three seekers, but rather one trine."

Then Ramjet took three steps back, and Dirge stepped forward to recite his vows.

"I, Dirge, accept the claim of my trine commander," Dirge recited formally, "Where he flies, I fly. Our victories and sorrows will forever be shared. I will fly by my leader's right wing and protect him from our enemies. I shall bring no dishonor to my trine. We are no longer three seekers, but one trine."

Dirge stepped back to stand at Ramjet's right side, leaving Thrust to complete the trining oath. He was nervous, and his mind was a blank, so he tried reading the ancient script on the floor to recite the left-wing vows.

"Um, I, Thrust, accept the money of my trine commander," Thrust misread the scuffed up text on the floor, with the result being a few snickers from the crowd and an angry scowl from his father's trine commander, "Where he flies, I zip. Our food and femmes will be forever shared. I will be my leader's left wing and protect him from fruit. I shall bring great dishonor to our trine. We are no longer three losers, but one trine."

Those that weren't rolling on the floor laughing were gaping in shock at Thrust. He looked around at the crowd and realized he must've messed up.

"Thrust…" Dirge said hesitantly, "Did you even hear what you said?"

"Um...Not really," Thrust squeaked nervously.

He looked at Ramjet, who was now walking toward him, and he was sure he was going to be beaten and possibly disowned as unfit for the trine. If he had to move back in with his family he would never hear the end of it. No one would trine with such a flake!

"Thrust," Ramjet said in a gruff voice, "That had to be the most honest vow I have ever heard."

"So, um, are you mad at me?" Thrust asked timidly; afraid of the answer.

"A little, but it was funny as slag," Ramjet admitted, "I hope somebody was taping this. If any of us ever have sparklings, they'll wanna see this."

"Wait, so...I can stay in the trine?" Thrust asked hopefully.

" _Stay_? You just got here, slag head!" Ramjet snapped, but then clamped a servo on Thrust's shoulder in a friendly manner, "Besides, you're gonna spend the rest of your life with this ugly mug. I figure that's punishment enough."

"I never said you were ugly, sir," Thrust tried to sound genuine, but Ramjet gave him a scowl that said he didn't buy it.

"Don't feed me slag and call it energon!" Ramjet shouted, "I like honesty. Maybe I like it when the lower-ranking Decepticons kiss my tailpipe, but I don't want that from you or Dirge! We're brothers, you hear me? I expect a certain amount of candor from you. Now, let's go open up the feasting room for our guests."

The crowds, upon hearing this, cheered and followed the new trine to the door that led to the dining hall. Dirge smirked when he was sure his trine mates weren't watching. His grandsire had been recording the entire event, and Thrust's bumbling vows would be preserved for generations to come.

* * *

"What was _that_!?" Puff Smoke yelled at Thrust the instant he was away from the group, "All you had to do was repeat what Dirge said, but you couldn't even do _that_ right!"

"Well to be fair, he probably would've accidentally called himself the right wing," his father said less than helpfully.

Thrust was humiliated, and just wanted his family to stop talking about it. He knew he screwed up. He knew he almost lost his chance at a trine because of this. He didn't need Puff Smoke reminding him of it the instant he stepped away from the center table. He bet cargo trucks didn't have to put up with this.

Before long, Thrust was able to get away from his family by chatting up a femme from his unit who wanted to dance with him. The song was fast, and he was having a good time now that he was among friends and away from his domineering family. The only one he would really miss was his Uncle Turbine. Other than that, he was almost looking forward to his new life. Ramjet might've been homely, but he seemed nice enough. Dirge was standoffish, but at least he hadn't been mean to Thrust yet. This just might work.

Ramjet, meanwhile, was drinking his high grade and watching the crowds as they danced, ate, and flew around the room. He had seen some odd guests. There were neutrals all over the place, but he couldn't tell which seeker they were here for. Pit, they probably just came for the free fuel. He also saw many Decepticons that were there to see Thrust or his family.

Ramjet sighed miserably. His own father and trine uncles were dead. They had been killed by Autobots during a counter-strike in Tyger Pax. He was young then, but not too young to take care of himself. He joined the Decepticons immediately after that so he would have somewhere to go. Ramjet had advanced to the rank of Lieutenant, and at this point in his career commanded a squadron of 11. Those 11 hated his struts. He was a harsh taskmaster, and he didn't waste time making friends.

He was beginning to understand the downside to his philosophy now that he was staring out into the crowd and noticing that he didn't know anyone there. He didn't have a single guest at his own trining ceremony.


	2. Rough Start

_Author's Notes: I'll just tell you, this has possibly been my least popular fic ever posted. My Portal fanfics got more attention! I guess that's one reason why I put this fic on the back-burner for a while. Then I got a lovely review from a user named **MARSHMELLOWTOASTIE** and it made me go back and read the other reviews I had received on this fic so far. I realized that the idea wasn't a bad one, it just wasn't popular. I suppose I shouldn't allow something like limited interest to stop me from doing the best I can do and telling the story I want to tell. So, **MARSHMELLOWTOASTIE** , this one's for you :)_

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Chapter 2

Rough Start

After the great feast was over the newly joined trine made their way to the surgeon's office in the back of the Unification Hall. Soon Thrust and Dirge would be Coneheads just like Ramjet, and then Ramjet would need to sign a few papers to get his trine transferred to his unit so they could stay together.

Thrust had to admit to himself that he wasn't looking forward to this. He liked his current unit and his current friends. He didn't want to be taken from it and transferred to a camp with a bunch of mechs and femmes he didn't know. He didn't even know what kind of unit Ramjet commanded! For all he knew they could be anything from snipers to infantry to street sweepers! It was yet another unknown in a life that had too many unknowns as it was.

Dirge didn't care about his old unit, but he did hope he wouldn't have to move too far away. His grandsire relied on Dirge to keep him out of trouble with the local Decepticon authorities. When neutrals were caught they were either recruited or killed, and nobody wanted to recruit a mech as old as Stereopticon.

They made it inside, and Ramjet clamped onto both their shoulders to encourage them to move on. Thrust and Dirge felt a little better knowing Ramjet was trying to bolster their confidence rather than bully them into submission. Thrust knew nothing of Ramjet, but Dirge had heard stories about the brutality of this seeker. Ramjet was known to beat up his own mechs for fun, and enjoyed slaughtering Autobots. Dirge was surprised such a mech could treat his trine fairly, but Dirge wasn't stupid. He knew once the newness of their joining wore off Ramjet would start smacking them around the same way he did to every other powerless grunt. Dirge accepted this fact with grim resignation.

"Ah, another pair of seekers to reconstruct," the medic, a neutral seeker with white and tan paint said amiably, "So, which of you is the trine leader?"

"I am!" Ramjet replied proudly, "Make 'em look like this!" He said as he pointed to his face plate.

"Oh my, such a shame," the medic said bluntly, "It's too bad the red one isn't the leader. That is a face plate I would be _overjoyed_ to copy."

Thrust blushed at the compliment, and Ramjet crossed his arms over his cockpit and scowled at him.

"Stop acting like such a femme and get on the slagging table!" Ramjet scolded Thrust.

"Yes sir," Thrust said timidly as he rushed past everyone to get to the operating table.

Dirge noticed that Thrust was a bit cowardly in his behavior. This could pose a problem in the future. If Thrust abandoned them during a fight it could cost them their lives. Not to mention that having such a coward on the team would disgrace them in the optics of other Cybertronians; especially other seekers.

"Dirge!" Ramjet snapped at his right wing, "Are you just going to stare into space all night? Get on the table!"

"As you command, Ramjet," Dirge said formally as he walked casually over to the table.

Ramjet snorted at Dirge's overly-formal tone and took his place at the scanner so the medic would know exactly how to rebuild his trine. The green light danced over his frame starting with his pedes and ending at his pointed head. His trine mates were two very different mechs, he could tell. Still, they likely both would serve him well in the near future. He wouldn't admit this out loud to anyone, but he was grateful to have them. He was an only creation, and to finally have brothers to keep him company was something he had wanted all his life.

* * *

When they finally came out of surgery, Thrust immediately went for the mirror. Dirge knew he didn't really want to know, so he waited for his trine mate to finish before he walked up to the mirror.

Thrust saw himself, and he didn't know what to think. Part of him wanted to laugh at how silly he looked, but a bigger part of him wanted to scream and cry that he was now an ugly flying missile-headed joke. He settled for keening slightly and pressing his servo to the mirror in anguish. His life as he knew it was over.

Dirge took his time getting to the mirror, and when he saw himself he was surprised to not really feel anything toward the change. It was as if it weren't actually happening to him but rather to someone else. Part of him did dislike the orange fins, but not enough to actually say or do anything about it. They were mildly annoying, and that was all. At least this change would please his new trine commander.

Ramjet walked up to them, and when they saw him he slightly shrugged at them. It was as close to an apology as he could manage. He knew he wasn't handsome, but he had at least hoped Thrust wouldn't cry about it. Dirge seemed to take it well, so that was something at least.

"I signed the transfer papers while you were knocked out," Ramjet informed them, "You'll have to stay in my quarters for the first night, but after that I should be able to get you each your own rooms."

"We have to sleep by ourselves?" Thrust asked nervously, "In my house I slept in the same room as my father and uncles. We, um...We lived in a one room apartment."

"You are free to bunk with me Thrust," Dirge offered, "As long as you don't snore."

"I don't! Promise!" Thrust exclaimed quickly, "Thank you, Dirge."

"Well, if you guys are really that glitched about not being alone, I guess we could all stay in my room permanently," Ramjet said awkwardly, "I mean, it's big enough, I guess. As your commander it is my job to look out for you guys, so we might as well stick together."

The other two smiled gratefully at Ramjet. He didn't want to tell them why he offered his room to them, but the truth was he just didn't want to be left out. If those two were willing to stay together but not with him it made him feel excluded. Of course, Ramjet would never admit he was lonely or jealous. As far as they needed to know, he was just being a good commander.

* * *

That night they flew 80 mechano-miles to Ramjet's unit. Dirge smiled when he saw how gloomy the atmosphere was. If it was one thing Dirge liked, it was mechs and femmes being as miserable as he was.

Thrust was surprised to see that Ramjet was the commander of a prison camp for captured Autobots and neutrals. There were barracks for the troops and barracks for the prisoners, but poor Thrust couldn't tell which was which!

The camp was dead silent that night. The only one out was the night watchmech, and he didn't bother firing a shot when he saw it was just his commanding officer and his new trinemates. Ramjet landed at a small square building that had a sign that read "Ramjet's Quarters. Trespassers Will Be Shot". Ramjet unlocked the door and allowed his trinemates to walk inside before he did.

Ramjet immediately ran for the vanity mirror and started cleaning himself off and removing the day's filth. Thrust and Dirge both just stood in the middle of the floor, unsure of how to proceed next.

"I'll order Powerdown to bring in two more berths," Ramjet said as he wiped his face off in front of the mirror, "Go on, sit down. Curfew don't apply tonight, but don't get used to this. From now on you go into recharge at 42:00 just like everyone else. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Thrust replied stiffly.

"Hey now, none of that _sir_ stuff!" Ramjet snapped, "We're family! You call me Ramjet!"

"Yes sir, Ramjet!" Thrust replied nervously, and Ramjet sighed and shook his helm.

Ramjet comm'ed the watchmech and ordered him to bring two more berths from the supply room. Dirge was content to sit there and do nothing, but Thrust was starting to get a little antsy. He looked from Dirge to Ramjet, but neither one seemed to be paying any attention to him. Finally unwilling to be ignored any longer, Thrust turned to Ramjet and quietly asked "So, what will our assignments be?"

"I'll start you off on cleaning duty," Ramjet told Thrust, "I figure Dirge will make a decent guard since his sigma ability is literally designed to scare the daylights out of grown mechs. That was why my sire insisted on having Dirge as a member of my trine. He believed a trine's combined abilities was the key to true success among the Decepticons. If you want to be taken seriously, then you have to be the best."

"Oh," Thrust replied; disappointed both in his assignment and the fact that Dirge was more powerful than him, "So...why was I selected for the trine? I don't have any special powers."

"Your uncle bribed my sire," Ramjet replied sourly, "Apparently you're only here because my sire was a greedy slagger and didn't care who he sold me to."

"Oh," Thrust sighed.

Thrust hated this. Not only did his Uncle Puff Smoke have to offer a bribe to get him into a decent trine, but he had to bribe a trine with an ugly creation! Thrust felt so worthless. Dirge was accepted because he had something to offer. Thrust was only here because Puff Smoke paid his way in. Of course after screwing up his own trining vows like that, he began to think maybe he didn't deserve any better than this.

"You're awful quiet," Ramjet commented.

"Just thinking, Ramjet," Thrust replied quietly.

"Oh, does it hurt?" Ramjet teased him, but then noticed Thrust really did seem upset, "Thrust, I think I know what's bothering you. If it makes you feel any better, I feel used too."

"You? But you're the trine commander!" Thrust wailed pitifully, "You and your family could've had anybody. I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve a trine. I've done nothing to earn my place."

"You're wrong, for a few reasons," Ramjet replied matter-of-factly, "First, my _family_ could've had anybody, but I had no choice in the matter. You weren't the one that was sold to the highest bidder, I was. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with my sire, but he's dead so it doesn't matter. Second, you haven't done anything to earn your place yet, but nobody does right away. We're a trine, and we have to earn our place together. Our successes and our failures belong to all of us. You haven't earned your place, but neither have I and neither has Dirge. It'll take a while, but we'll learn our strengths and weaknesses, and someday Cybertronians the world over will cower at the very mention of our names! Thrust, if you want to be good enough for this trine, then you start now! You do as you're told, you work hard, and you show no mercy for our enemies. Got it?"

"Got it!" Thrust replied excitedly, "Slag, with a speech like that you should be second to Megatron!"

"Yes I should, and someday I will be!" Ramjet declared, "And when I am, you two will be right there by my side! We will work harder than anyone else, unleash chaos like no one else, and someday we will be the _elite seeker trine_!"

" _Yeah_!" Thrust cheered and jumped up out of his seat, "We're gonna be the greatest trine ever!"

"That's great," Dirge said sardonically, "So, when does the greatest trine ever get those extra berths in here? I'm exhausted."

Ramjet laughed and playfully punched Dirge on his pointy new noggin. Dirge glared up at Ramjet and rubbed his helm, and Thrust laughed at his brothers' antics. It was a rocky start, but the three seekers had survived their first night as a trine.


	3. Gulag

_Author's Notes: My updates are going to be a bit slower for a while. I dislocated my right shoulder on Saturday, and needless to say it hurts. I felt well enough to type a little tonight, and for some reason I updated this unpopular fic instead of one of my popular ones. Oh, well. I suppose I was just in the mood to write hopelessly ambitious Coneheads. Please review, follow, and favorite to see more Meritocracy :)_

* * *

Chapter 3

Gulag

The first few orns of Thrust and Dirge being in Ramjet's unit didn't go as well as the Coneheads had hoped. They didn't understand how much Ramjet was truly hated by his troops until the two of them were left alone with the bitter group.

Thrust's first job was to clean out the barracks where the other soldiers recharged. He didn't go into it expecting an award or anything, but he was still cautiously optimistic about earning a reputation as reliable and a hard worker.

The first problem came when he entered the quarters of Outburst and Tidal Wave, who were both still in the room when he entered. They were talking from their berths and eating energon goodies since it was their day off, and Thrust tried to clean without disturbing them. Turned out it would be _them_ who disturbed _him_.

"Hey, rookie!" Outburst shouted tauntingly at Thrust, "You forgot to clean that!" He snapped as he pointed to a high grade cabinet with a tarp over it.

"It's covered up," Thrust pointed out.

"I can see that, slacker!" Outburst snapped unsympathetically, "You remove the tarp, clean the cabinet, and put the tarp back in place. Oh, I'm sorry! Is that too complicated for a pin head like you to comprehend?"

"I'm a Conehead, not a pin head!" Thrust retorted angrily.

"The more time you spend arguing with us, the likelier you are to be late in reporting to Ramjet..." Tidal Wave said in a sing-song fashion, "You don't want your new trine commander to know how useless you are, do you?"

The two boat-formers shared a laugh over that one, and Thrust bit his glossa and tried to focus on his work. He removed the tarp and threw it on the floor before going to clean the high grade cabinet.

"Hey!" Outburst snapped, "You forgot to fold the tarp! Ugh, and it's on the floor! Now it's dirty because you didn't scrub the floors first! You are so incompetent!"

"Sorry," Thrust said through gritted dental plates, "I'll get this tarp cleaned for you."

"Good!" Outburst nodded sharply as Thrust picked up the tarp, "I want it back by tomorrow."

Thrust subspaced the tarp and continued to clean. He scrubbed the floor, wiped off the grime from all the furniture, and washed the windows. While he did this the other two continued to talk, eat energon snacks, and bark orders at Thrust. The dark red Conehead was getting sick of these condescending fraggers, but he was the cleaning inspector, and therefore it was his job to ensure everything was tidy.

After he left their quarters he was about to go clean Trigger and Giga Cannon's quarters. On the way there he ran into Dirge, who was standing in front of an outdoor cage filled with Autobot and neutral prisoners.

"Thrust, you look terrible," Dirge commented, "What happened to you?"

"Oh, I guess being cleaning inspector is harder than I thought it would be," Thrust admitted, "The other Decepticons are mean to me, and scrubbing the floors hurts my knee joints."

" _Scrubbing the floors_?" Dirge asked incredulously, "Thrust, do you even know what you're supposed to be doing?" Thrust shook his head no, "Thrust, your job is to inspect the quarters of our teammates. If anyone is letting their quarters go to the pit, then you're supposed to report it to Ramjet. That's all you're supposed to do."

"But everyone else said-!" Thrust began to protest.

"They lied," Dirge interrupted, "I'm not surprised, honestly. They told me I was supposed to guard the prisoners from _inside_ the cage. I didn't fall for it, but a lesser 'Con might've gone in and been ripped to shreds once their weapon lost charge. Now get back to your duty. These Autobots look for any opportunity to strike out against us and our conversation is distracting me."

"Yes, Dirge," Thrust replied sullenly, "Thanks for being honest with me. I'm gonna give our so-called _team_ a piece of my processor! Well, first I'm going to launder this tarp, and _then_ I'm going to give them a piece of my processor!"

"Go, Thrust. Hoorah," Dirge cheered in a disinterested monotone.

Thrust laughed and then took off to complete his rounds. Dirge sighed and turned back to look at the prisoners. It wasn't necessary to face them, but he enjoyed watching them watch him. They always looked so wary and sad. It helped him take his mind off the fact that he and Thrust had a metaphorical target painted on their wings. It made sense though. Ramjet was cruel to his troops, and Dirge and Thrust looked like Ramjet and were related to Ramjet, yet could be bullied. Why wouldn't the other troops abuse their meager power over them?

* * *

That night Dirge and Thrust returned to their quarters exhausted and covered in grime. The prison camp was located in a part of Cybertron that was virtually unlivable due to the organic deposits and humid rust-inducing atmosphere. This place was so remote it didn't even have a name, so most simply called it _The Scrap Heap_.

Ramjet came in about 10 breems after his brothers. He wasn't filthy like they were, but the hard look on his face plate told them he'd had a bad day. Both were nervous that Ramjet might take that bad day out on them. When Ramjet turned to look at Thrust, the red Conehead ducked his helm and looked at his leader with wide nervous optics.

"I heard you went the extra mechano-meter on your first orn on the job," Ramjet told Thrust in a condescending tone of voice, "My mechs walked all over you...and you _let them_. I'm very disappointed in you, Thrust."

"I'm sorry!" Thrust exclaimed quickly, "I'll do better tomorrow now that I know what my job actually is! Please give me another chance, commander!"

"Don't call me that!" Ramjet yelled, and Thrust flinched, "Ugh! Stop cowering, you little slagger! The problem ain't your job. The problem is your attitude. You're a Decepticon soldier, and I expect you to act like one! Now, I think before you handle the other 'Cons, first you need experience throwing your weight around. Next orn you're off cleaning inspection. I want you to be one of the soldiers that leads the prisoners to the quarry to break down minerals. If a prisoner so much as looks at you funny, you have my permission to do whatever you have to in order to get them back in line. You are their boss, and they will learn to respect you. If you can get the prisoners to respect you, then you'll learn how to get the troops to respect you. Got that?"

"Yes Ramjet! I won't let you down!" Thrust replied enthusiastically.

"Will I still be on guard duty next orn, Ramjet?" Dirge asked.

"Actually, I noticed you enjoy the pain of other mechs and femmes," Ramjet pointed out, "From now on I want you to be my chief interrogator. I've been doing the job myself up to this point, but with all the administrative junk I have to do I simply don't have time to question every Autobot, let alone torture them. Make me proud, Dirge. I know you can do it."

"Indeed I can," Dirge replied with a slight smile, "With my fear-inducing sigma ability I won't even have to touch them to get them to confess their every transgression."

"I knew I could count on you, fellas," Ramjet smiled wide at his trine, "Don't let me down. Your success is my success, and your failure is my failure. Our victories and defeats directly affect how the world sees the Decepticon cause. We must strive to do our best for our community. Now, get some recharge. Next orn is going to be a real challenge."

The Coneheads then took their places at their assigned berths. Ramjet immediately began snoring, Dirge took a cloth out of subspace and washed his face plate, and Thrust looked up instructions on how to motivate prisoners on the Decepticon Public Access Network. Thrust knew he wouldn't be able to recharge. He was too excited to have a new job to do.

* * *

 _3 orns later..._

Decepticons cheered Ramjet on as he landed another punch to the neutral's face plate! Three neutrals had come close to the camp and had been captured by Outburst. Ramjet had comm'ed Dirge to get his aft over there and handle this, but the dark blue Conehead was taking his time, so Ramjet was left to "question" the three prisoners in his own ham-fisted way.

Ramjet kicked the downed mech, a carrier host, and then punched him in the abdominal struts. The carrier went down, and the two other prisoners, cassettes, tried to come to their host's rescue.

"Leave him alone, you slagging Con!" A lime green cassette ordered, "He never did anything to you!"

"Yeah, if you want to hurt someone hurt us!" A light blue and white cassette added.

Both cassettes were humanoid in appearance with the green one having hands that converted into pile drivers and the blue one having hands that converted into lightning rods. Ramjet might've gone easier on them if they were bird-based. The bird cassettes were cool and typically useful. The upright cassettes seemed to be good for causing trouble and little else.

"Sir…" The carrier, crawling due to no longer being able to stand, croaked out, "Forgive us. We came to...see you. Please...my sons...need asylum."

"You think we'll take in a couple of empties when our own energon is running low?" Ramjet asked contemptuously, "Your cassettes are worthless, and so are you! Now, you and your flunkies have an appointment with our interrogator, and then it's straight to a cell for you. That is, if you're even worth keeping alive for slave labor."

The dark blue carrier shook from the effort to remain on his hands and knees, and his cassettes each took one of his arms and helped him up. They thought this was as bad as it could get, but then one of the other Decepticons grabbed the green cassette and threw him against the wall! He stayed conscious, but his back struts shattered. He couldn't get up on his own, so the carrier gingerly picked him up and cradled him in his arms. The blue cassette clung to his father's leg for comfort, and the carrier looked forlornly at Ramjet and the other laughing Decepticons.

Dirge finally entered the room with his _toolkit_ , and Ramjet scowled at how late his right wing was.

"What took you so long?" Ramjet scolded.

"I apologize, Ramjet," Dirge replied in his typical formal tone, "Thrust wanted to show me a prisoner sucking up to him. I don't think he's used to the idea of power yet, and it still tickles him. Now, where is the prisoner you wish me to interrogate?"

" _Prisoners_ ," Ramjet corrected him, "There's three. All neutrals. A bunch of empties from what we can gather. Your job is to question them for any useful intel and then tell us if you think they're healthy enough for slave labor."

"I'm not a medic," Dirge pointed out.

"I know. We don't have one," Ramjet reminded him, "Now, they're over there cowering by the far wall. Make 'em talk."

Dirge turned around to look at the prisoners, and was stunned by what he saw. It was Stereopticon; his grandsire! There were also two of his six uncles, Shellshock and Spinreel! He couldn't believe his own family had been captured by his unit. His poor grandsire looked slagged. He had to remind himself that Ramjet didn't know any better. He just hoped his trine commander would be merciful once he found out the truth about them.

"Grandsire," Dirge whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"Is that you, Dirge?" Stereopticon muttered softly so as to not attract attention from the other Decepticons, "I haven't seen you since you got your new frame. It looks good on you, mechling."

"Dirge! Your commander attacked us!" Spinreel hissed; his green face turning brighter with barely repressed anger, "We surrendered and he still attacked us!"

"Of course he did," Dirge replied as he rolled his optics, "I warned you before. The Decepticons don't accept refugees. Getting into the Decepticons takes dedication, training, and the willingness to crush anything that dares contradict you."

"Please Dirge, talk to Ramjet," Stereopticon requested; his optics streaming with fluid, "The Decepticons attacked our home town. There is nothing left, and my other four sons were killed right before my optics. Spinreel and Shellshock are all I have left. I will do anything to save them. Please mechling, protect them for me."

"No way, Sire!" Shellshock protested, "We came here to get _you_ to safety! Dirge, you know Sire is too old to travel from land to land like some sort of hippie transport. Remember who it was paid for your education, fed you for all those vorns, comforted you when you were depressed, and risked his life to keep you in Decepticon territory. You owe him, Dirge."

"I know," Dirge replied solemnly, "I will speak to Ramjet, but I cannot guarantee he will listen to me. We have only been trined for 4 orns. The union is still new. He might kill me for this."

"Then don't do it," Stereopticon interjected, "I don't want to see you harmed, Dirge. You're my only grandson. I should not have come here. I was just desperate to save my sons. Forgive us for this intrusion."

"No," Dirge growled, "I will not simply forget you exist. I might not succeed, but I will not stand by and do nothing while you are slaughtered. Stay here. I'm going to speak with Ramjet."

Dirge approached Ramjet and his audience with determination in his steps and an unreadable expression. Ramjet was eager to see if Dirge had managed to gather any useful information from his targets, and the others wanted to see if the prisoners would be beaten again. They liked watching Ramjet work as long as the violence wasn't directed at them.

"Ramjet. I need to speak to you alone. Please tell the other soldiers to leave," Dirge said firmly.

Ramjet smiled crookedly at Dirge's tone. He wasn't used to seeing the blue Conehead so agitated. Whatever he learned about these prisoners had to be good.

"You heard the mech. Get out!" Ramjet shouted at his troops; who scurried away from their volatile commander, "Okay Dirge, now what's so important?"

"Ramjet, these prisoners are members of my family," Dirge replied without mincing words, "The carrier is my grandsire, and the cassettes are my uncles. I plead on their behalf for your protection. They are my only surviving relatives, and I will find a way to repay this debt to you if you choose to come to my family's aid. I will accept whatever judgment you give them without argument, Ramjet. I assure you that my loyalty is to my trine first."

Ramjet stared at the three huddled prisoners as if he were seeing them for the first time. He knew the frame types were different, but there were quite a few similarities between Stereopticon and Dirge's old frame. Even now the dark grey face plates and dark blue armor was identical. He also noticed that the old mech could really take a beating. He'd noticed that about Dirge when he stopped a prison break last orn and managed to avoid getting treatment despite his various injuries.

Stereopticon and his sons watched as Ramjet and Dirge conversed. Stereopticon could normally listen in on such conversations, but his helm had been banged up pretty badly, so he was left to wonder what was going on just like his sons.

Finally, after 5 agonizing breems, Ramjet walked over to the prisoners and stood in front of them; his shadow covering them like a funeral shroud. Stereopticon hugged Spinreel tighter, and Shellshock averted his gaze from the intense glare Ramjet was giving them.

"After careful consideration, I'm giving you miserable fraggers a choice," Ramjet scowled as he spoke, "Either you join the Decepticons, or you die. Simple as that. I won't negotiate, and I won't accept empties taking up more space. You agree to serve Megatron, or you die. Understand?"

"We understand, sir," Stereopticon nodded, "May we have a moment to discuss it?"

"No," Ramjet shot down their request, "You knew what you were getting into when you came here. Now, choose!"

Stereopticon didn't really want to be a Decepticon. Aside from his age-related issues, he also didn't believe in the Decepticons' methods for achieving their goals. Megatron seemed like a fanatic, and while he didn't protest when his son-in-law decided to raise Dirge as a Decepticon, he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of joining them. He couldn't afford to be selfish, however. His sons relied on him for survival, and they deserved a chance to get through this war alive.

After a moment, Stereopticon sighed and informed Ramjet that he and his sons would pledge their loyalty to Megatron and the Decepticons. They survived, but it felt like a humiliating defeat. Dirge was thankful that they would survive. They would probably be transferred to another unit, but at least he would know they weren't gutted like old tankers.

Dirge didn't thank Ramjet. Not with words anyway. Ramjet knew how his right wing felt about him though. From then on Dirge trusted Ramjet with everything from secrets to injuries to his very life. Ramjet never said it, but he was happy that Dirge let his guard down in front of him. It felt like they were real brothers now.


	4. Autobot Prisoners

_Author's Notes: A fair warning, the latter part of this chapter gets_ dark _. Also, this is a chapter mostly focusing on Thrust. Future chapters will focus on the other two, but for some reason both of the scenes I wanted to work on involved Thrust. I've been working on this chapter off and on for a little over a month. Every time I would work on it though something would interrupt me, so that's why it took so long to finish and post. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this chapter of Meritocracy :)_

* * *

Chapter 4

Autobot Prisoners

Over the course of several orns the gulag fell into a routine once again. Thrust and Dirge still weren't liked by the other troops, but at least they were largely ignored. Dirge had several duties to perform in the camp including torturer, medic, guard, cleaning inspector, and prisoner retrieval. Thrust was left with the task of guarding the prison workforce since that was one of the only jobs he didn't screw up on a regular basis. He was happy with that, because he loved the sense of power.

Thrust had become somewhat of a bully to the prisoners under his care. At first he tried just standing around and letting the laborers do their jobs, but he quickly found that they would stop to rest more often and quotas wouldn't be filled if he gave them any slack.

After the first orn Thrust became meaner and more demanding. He would shoot at the pedes of those he felt were being lazy, and he would yell every few breems for them to work faster and harder. No matter how many minerals were mined, no matter how many loads were carried, and no matter how much ore was processed, it never seemed to be enough for the Decepticons.

On this particular orn it was very cold, and the sky was dark with fog. Seekers were grounded since there was an acid rain watch in effect, but the prisoners were still led out for work just like every other orn.

Ramjet had told Thrust that the quotas weren't being met yet again, and that they had to get the prisoners to work faster. Thrust was under a lot of stress. If the quota wasn't met then he would get in trouble with Ramjet, and Ramjet would get in trouble with high command, and could possibly even lose his position as commander of the gulag. If Ramjet wasn't commander, then the Conehead trine was slagged. It was up to Thrust to keep their tailpipes in one piece by driving the prisoners to the brink of malfunction.

Thrust looked out at the quarry they were assigned to, and saw with satisfaction that the prisoners were working hard. He smiled and was about to let his processor wander when he noticed a minibot fall to the ground and not get back up! Thrust ran over to the minibot, but a femme prisoner had gotten to him first. When Thrust looked at the prisoner, an Autobot, he saw that the fragger wasn't even unconscious! He was just lying there when they had work to do!

"Get up, you lazy glitch!" Thrust yelled as he kicked at the minibot, "Get back to work!"

"Stop it!" The femme challenged him, "He's exhausted, and if he doesn't get recharge soon he'll offline!"

"You watch your tone femme, or you'll find yourself in Dirge's _tender care_ ," Thrust threatened the aggressive Autobot femme.

"No…" The minibot rasped, "Not worth it, Arcee. I'll get up…"

"Shh, it's okay Gears. I've got this," Arcee assured her weary teammate, "Why can't you Decepticons ever be happy with what you've got? We're already slaves here, but that isn't enough. You humiliate us, beat us, and starve us until we don't know which way is up! Well, I've had enough of you, seeker! Let us rest and we might be able to get more work done."

"You _dare_ speak to your taskmaster that way!?" Thrust bellowed angrily as he aimed one of his missile launchers at the femme's helm.

The other prisoners watched to see would happen. Arcee's wrists were shackled just like everyone else's, and she was unarmed. Thrust, meanwhile, was armed to the teeth and really angry at the Autobot prisoners. It looked like the standoff was going to last for a while, but Thrust made the mistake of looking at Arcee's optics instead of her hands…

Arcee clamped her fists together and used them as a blunt instrument to smash into Thrust's helm! He fell, and she ripped away his arm cannons and tore at his wings! While she was busy doing that, the other prisoners took it as their cue to make a break for it, so they started escaping en masse!

Arcee picked up Gears and left; leaving Thrust battered on the ground and barely conscious. She was out of the compound with her friend before Thrust could even come to his senses enough to know what happened.

/Ramjet.../ Thrust comm'ed his leader, /We have a prison break in section Alpha Delta Four. Request...Retrieval forces./

Thrust was barely hanging onto consciousness, and his helm and wings really hurt. He really regretted that they had no formally trained medic. He wondered if he would be shipped to a bigger unit for repairs, have to endure being worked on by the inexperienced Dirge, or simply be left to suffer as punishment for letting the prisoners escape. He knew he deserved to be forgotten, but he really, _really_ wanted to be repaired.

He felt a servo push down on his helm to stop the energon flow, and sighed in relief that someone was tending to him. He couldn't figure out who it was though. This servo was much smaller than most of his comrades possessed. The force applied to the injury wasn't very strong either. Finally curiosity got the better of him, and Thrust blearily onlined his optics to see who was helping him.

She was a yellow and orange femme; an orbital saucer if he guessed correctly. She was one of his prisoners as indicated by the red Autobot sigil plastered on her chassis and the blue optics looking down at him with an odd combination of concern for him and fear of him.

"You…" Thrust tried to speak, but he was too weak.

"Please don't try to move," The femme requested; still pressing down on his injury, "I wish I knew more about medical care. I don't really know how to help you. Do you have anything we can cover your wound with in your subspace?"

"Stupid…" Thrust croaked, "...Troops...coming. Leave...stupid...Autobot."

"You were able to comm for help?" The femme asked in horror; knowing what the Decepticons would do to her if she stayed there.

"Last...ch-chance," Thrust managed to say; already feeling the blackness of stasis lock about to overcome him.

"I can't leave you like this!" The femme protested, "You'll die if I don't stay here with you. I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know Arcee was going to do that. Please, if she's caught by your forces...don't make her suffer. She was only concerned about the rest of us. She is our unit's commanding officer, and she treats everyone like members of her own family. I owe her my life several times over."

Thrust managed a weak half smile. Her description reminded him of Ramjet. It was strange to compare his trine commander to a pink Autobot femme, but it seemed like a fair comparison. Or maybe the energon loss was starting to get to him.

"What...is your...designation?" Thrust asked as he reached out a hand for her to hold; which she didn't take out of nervousness and distrust.

"Prisma," The titular femme replied as she continued to eye him warily.

"Prisma…" Thrust breathed the name and looked at her with soft yellow optics; truly amazed that this Autobot would risk her own life just to try to save his.

Just then, several pede steps could be heard coming over the clearing. The seekers in the unit couldn't fly due to the fog, so it took longer for reinforcements to arrive. Ramjet was at the forefront, and found himself angry at the sight of his left brother bleeding out and injured with one of those Autobot glitches hovering over him. He would make an example of this one…

Prisma gasped when she saw she was surrounded by Decepticon soldiers, but she didn't move her hands away from the gaping injury. She didn't know what she would do, or what they would do. She had heard horror stories about Decepticons killing their own mechs for incompetence. She hoped she didn't stay behind for nothing. She also hoped her death would be a quick one, since she knew there was no way they would leave her alive after this.

"Thrust, you online?" Ramjet asked gruffly; unwilling to look soft-sparked in front of his troops.

"Ramjet!" Thrust said with more energy than he thought he could muster, "Don't leave me. I need...a medic."

"You'll get one," Ramjet replied curtly, "Powerdown, apply pressure to the wound. Outburst, take this Autobot _scrap pile_ to see Dirge."

Prisma visibly shook at those words. Dirge had already earned a reputation among the prisoners as a stoic yet sadistic torturer. She knew then that she was utterly doomed. She wanted to say something in her defense, but she knew anything that looked like pleading would only serve as entertainment for her merciless captors. She had no recourse, and no way to escape.

" _Wait_ …" Thrust moaned when they lifted him into the cab of Trigger's alt mode, "Don't damage Prisma. She's...our best worker. We need her...now that...escape."

Thrust was lying, of course. He didn't know if Prisma was a good worker or not. Until this very orn he didn't even know she existed. He couldn't ignore her now, though. That beautiful frail little femme had risked a painful death for him. Her bravery and compassion made her a femme of incredible character. More than that though, he wanted to get to know her better.

"We have execute _someone_ for this," Ramjet pointed out to Thrust.

"Not her," Thrust insisted, "Please, Ramjet. Not her. I want her...alive."

Ramjet snorted, but in the end decided to give Thrust what he wanted. He didn't like going easy on their prisoners, and he personally believed Autobots deserved whatever they got from him and his mechs, but Thrust so rarely asked for anything. Besides, until they recaptured their prisoners they really did need as many good workers as they could get.

When Thrust woke up in the emergency ward in Kaon, he found that Dirge was by his side reading a data pad. Thrust asked about the Autobot that stayed by his side, and Dirge informed Thrust that she was back in her outdoor prison pen and ready to go back to work. Thrust was so happy Ramjet decided not to execute her. He knew it was a silly thought, but he found himself attracted to the selfless femme. If only she weren't an Autobot…

* * *

Thrust's stay in Kaon lasted for 2 orns. Afterward he returned with his trine brothers back to the land with no designation to resume his duties at the gulag. Thrust was afraid he would lose his job guarding the workers, but to his surprise and relief Ramjet kept him at his current post. Mostly it was so Ramjet didn't have to fill out the paperwork required to move Thrust someplace else, but no matter the reason Thrust was grateful.

The red jet realized though that filling the quotas would be even harder than before. A few new prisoners had been captured since he had been gone, but there still weren't enough mechs and femmes to mine and process all of the ore they needed to be considered efficient. It actually got to the point where Thrust would shoot at some of the rocks so the energon could be collected more easily. Ramjet would hate to hear his brother was helping the prisoners, but they needed that ore.

When Thrust would get a free moment he would observe Prisma. Sometimes he would eavesdrop on her conversations. She was the type that loved to talk to other prisoners and trying to bolster their spirits when they were down. She was generous and kind, but contrary to what Thrust had told Ramjet, Prisma was a slow and weak worker. She actually hindered her group more than helped, but it was clear she was trying her best to keep up.

One other thing Thrust learned was that Prisma wasn't alone in her captivity. There was a red saucer-former that had been captured with her named Comet. He was her older brother, and they had been a part of the same brigade. They watched each other's backs, and he seemed to be very protective of her. Thrust wondered if that information might be useful later. He stored it away just in case.

/Hey Thrust, it's Dirge,/ Dirge commed him; taking him from his thoughts about Prisma, /You better get to the main office right now./

/I'll have to herd the prisoners back into their enclosure first,/ Thrust replied; not eager to end the day early with so little ore collected, /Is this important?/

/It is to you,/ Dirge replied vaguely, /Get in here. Ramjet is out in the field, and you should hear this from me first./

Thrust didn't like the tone Dirge was using. He was used to feeling uneasy and worried around Dirge due to his sigma ability going off at random, but Dirge wasn't even in close proximity now. Something was actually wrong this time.

/I'm on my way,/ Thrust replied resolutely as he cut the comm signal, "Alright prison slag! Line up! We're going back early! Yeah, that's right. You lazy fraggers get to rest for once. Enjoy it. Hurry up, you! Come on!"

The prisoners made their way to Thrust and brought back the minerals and energon they managed to collect from the mountain. Some of them grumbled at his tone, while others looked relieved that they would get to recharge soon. Thrust couldn't spare them a thought as he worried about what Dirge might want with him.

* * *

"A mission?" Thrust asked incredulously.

"That's right," Dirge nodded, "Our entire squadron is being sent to collect a group of Autobots that have seized Tarn's outer borders and are making their way inland. We will join Commander Blitzwing and his troops on this important assignment. The plan is to overwhelm the Autobots with sheer numbers."

"Understood," Thrust nodded, and looked at Dirge wondering if that was all he had to say.

"Also," Dirge finally added after a moment of awkward silence, "The reason I told you now is to give you time to gather your courage. I know you tend to be a bit cowardly. Well, no matter how intense the battle gets, I must insist that you don't show your fear to any Autobot. _I_ _mean it_ Thrust, you must show only firm resolve and deadly force. If you embarrass Ramjet I don't know if you'll get another chance."

Thrust took a deep intake of air and then quickly nodded to Dirge in reply. Ramjet had been lenient toward Thrust regarding the prison break and the femme Thrust wanted spared, but public humiliation before a superior officer like Blitzwing would be unforgivable. Dirge was right. A lot was riding on their success in this mission.

The two seekers went outside and waited for Ramjet to finish briefing the other soldiers on their positions in the strike. It took half a joor for Ramjet to finally make his way back to them. When Ramjet did finally showed up they transformed together and took off into the night sky in perfect unison like a well oiled machine. Well, _three_ well oiled machines to be more accurate.

It didn't take long after leaving for the Decepticon forces to find the Autobots. The Decepticons fired upon their enemies immediately, and the Autobots responded in kind. It was an all out dogfight, and neither side had a clear advantage. What surprised the Decepticons most was that these Autobots had fliers on their team. Some were just biplanes, but there were a few seekers as well.

Ramjet and Dirge flew in a synchronized pattern and shot at their enemies with precision and power. Thrust, on the other hand, was having trouble keeping up with the group and found himself getting lost. He couldn't see more than a few mechano-meters ahead of himself because there were too many other mechs flying around him and firing hot blinding laser light! If this kept up he would need to land!

He looked around to see if he could find any Autobots to fight, and that was when he saw a black and grey seeker with red Autobot sigils falling fast! He watched to see if the Autobot seeker would fall to pieces on the ground, but at the last second the Autobot transformed and landed without incident. Well, it looked like Thrust would have to take care of this one himself...

Thrust dove down fast and gracefully transformed at the last second. He looked around and saw the injured Autobot limping toward a nearby storage building that had been abandoned some time ago. Thrust ran after the downed mech and readied his missile launchers. His prey would not escape him!

" _Freeze, Autobot_!" Thrust hollered with all his might.

The Autobot stopped at the threshold of the warehouse and slowly turned to look at Thrust with disbelieving optics. When Thrust saw the face plate of this particular Autobot, he gasped and visibly shook.

It was Turbine! His Uncle Turbine was here and wearing an Autobot sigil! This was the most horrible thing Thrust could imagine. Turbine was Thrust's favorite trine uncle, and the one member of his family that had always loved and supported him unconditionally. Not only that, but Turbine was a useful fighter for the Decepticon cause. How could he betray his people for the Autobots? It didn't add up.

"Uncle...Turbine?" Thrust asked tentatively.

"I thought that was you, Thrust," Turbine said with a sad smile, "I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Your body, not so much. I wondered what you'd look like if you looked like Ramjet. I think you pull the look off better than him."

"Forget about my makeover!" Thrust snapped hysterically, "What is going _on_ here? You're a double agent, right? Yeah, I get it now! You're just pretending to be with the Autobots so you can collect information from them to give back to the Decepticons! Well, I'm sure once we get you back to HQ they'd be very happy to learn everything you've learned."

Turbine shook his helm as a melancholy look spread across his face plate.

"No, Thrust," Turbine said softly, "I'm with the Autobots now. I have always supported the cause of freedom and peace. The Decepticons no longer stand for that. We did once, but not anymore. I couldn't continue to support a tyrant that would enslave our world just as the council did. It didn't matter if I would be the oppressor instead of the oppressed. It wasn't worth the price I would have to pay as a seeker. There is no honor in this, my dear nephew. Please try to understand."

"How long have you been doing this?" Thrust asked accusingly.

"Not long," Turbine replied without shame, "Only a few orns. Puff Smoke kicked me out of the trine when he found out. He and your father have already found another to be their right wing. I miss them terribly, I admit, but I know I am doing the right thing."

"No, you're not," Thrust growled, "You've betrayed your family, your home, your frame type, and your _faction_. You know what the penalty is for treason, Uncle Turbine?"

"I know," Turbine nodded; resigned to his fate, "I would fly from you, but my thruster is broken. Also, I am too low on fuel to go much farther. I have no choice but to surrender to you, Thrust. Do what you must."

Thrust felt his spark flicker in his chest. It was all true. His uncle was a traitor, and he wasn't even sorry about it! He was guilty, and Thrust was the only one around to carry out the sentence. He would have to kill his uncle, or share in his crimes.

Raising a shaky servo, Thrust aimed his weapon at Turbine's spark. He set the power to maximum; determined to make it as quick and painless as possible. He closed his optics, unwilling to look his uncle in the face, and whimpered as he tried to will his gun to fire. A few seconds later, Thrust fell to his knees and began to cry.

He couldn't do it! He couldn't kill his most beloved uncle, no matter how terrible his crimes! Thrust cursed himself for being a weakling and a failure. Turbine tried to limp away while he still had a chance to escape, but his leg gave out from under him, and he fell to the ground; unable to walk.

Thrust's loud cries attracted Ramjet's attention, and he flew down at a sharp angle to see what was wrong with his left brother.

"Thrust! You separated from the group!" Ramjet scolded him, "You trying to get your aft blown off out here!? There's an Autobot _right there_!" He shouted as he pointed to Turbine.

"I can't do it..." Thrust whimpered softly; barely above a whisper.

"Can't do _what_?" Ramjet asked curtly.

"He's my right uncle, Ramjet," Thrust explained between sobs, "He betrayed us! He's a traitor and he has to die, but I can't shoot him! I can't!"

Thrust stayed on his knees and held his face plate in his servos to catch the cleaning fluid draining from his optics. He knew he was weak to do such a thing in front of his trine commander, but he couldn't help it. He wanted so badly to be a good Decepticon, but he also loved his uncle very much. Thrust didn't know how to deal with these conflicting emotions, and he hated to imagine what Ramjet must think of him for crying like a sparkling in front of his wing leader and an Autobot.

"Thrust," Ramjet addressed his trine brother with a hard stony voice, "Get up."

Thrust whimpered, but did as he was commanded. He reluctantly faced Ramjet, and awaited orders. He just knew Ramjet was angry with him for sparing his uncle Turbine, and imagined all sorts of painful punishments that awaited him.

"Thrust, I want you to turn around, transform, and fly back to base camp," Ramjet instructed him, "Don't look back. I'll take care of your problem for you."

"What are you gonna do?" Thrust asked fearfully.

"I'm gonna take care of this for you," Ramjet replied sternly; leaving no room for argument, "Don't ask questions, and never speak of this again. Now, go."

Thrust looked back at his injured uncle, who was looking back at them with optics that looked too old and tired to belong to a mech that was only 4,000 vorns old. Thrust had never seen a mech age like that in such a short amount of time. He was sure he knew what Ramjet meant by _taking care of the problem_ , but he was in no position to protest. On some level he was grateful that Ramjet was willing to do the dirty work for him and cover over his failings. With one last look and a deep breath, Thrust turned around, transformed, and flew away.

Ramjet approached Turbine, and with all the ceremony of hauling furniture grabbed Turbine's pede and dragged him into the storage shed. He closed the door behind them, but if anyone had been there the flimsy metal of the door would not have been enough to drown out the sound of a laser rifle firing several rounds into Cybertronian armor. Two mechs went into that shed, but only Ramjet came out.


	5. Persuasion Part 1

_Author's Notes: I was going to make this chapter longer, but decided instead to break it up into two parts so I could get this part out faster. I'm working on a beta reading gig at the moment but didn't want to leave you guys with nothing to read. Thank you for checking out Meritocracy, and I hope you enjoy and review this chapter :)_

* * *

Chapter 5

Persuasion Part I

The next few orns were rough on Thrust. Ever since the death of his uncle he was withdrawn and quiet. His trine mates had never seen him depressed before, and they didn't exactly know how to deal with it. Ramjet tried yelling at Thrust to do his job and move on with his life. That made Thrust get up and go to work, but it didn't change his behavior, and that bothered Ramjet. Dirge actually preferred Thrust this way since they had a similar temperament now, so he did nothing to change it at all.

One orn as Thrust watched the prisoners work he thought back to his uncle once again. Could he have captured Turbine? Forced him to work like these ground pounders? Could have have pretended to not know the seeker and saved his life? Chances are nothing would have saved Turbine, but Thrust still felt guilty about letting Ramjet kill him.

Thrust sighed when he thought about it, and then noticed that his chronometer was about to hit 53:00 joors. Lunch time.

"Alright you sacks of scrap!" Thrust yelled out at the prisoners, "Line up single file for your energon rations! You have a quarter joor to refuel and get back to work!"

Thrust took his own cube first and then allowed the other prisoners their cubes. The cubes were kept in a storage bin off to the side of the quarry, and were guarded by another Decepticon; today it was Outburst.

Thrust sat alone to refuel just as he did every shift. He wished his brothers worked with him guarding prisoners, but they each had their own assignments, so Thrust was left alone to deal with his thoughts.

Meanwhile, where the prisoners refueled, Comet and Prisma sat together as they usually did and enjoyed each other's company. They weren't given a lot of time with no supervision, so they cherished every moment together.

"So, who's your guard been during off hours?" Comet asked Prisma.

"Trigger," Prisma replied casually, "And you?"

"Last orn I was sent to solitary," Comet replied calmly, but then in a lower tone of voice said, "I think Ramjet suspects I know about the new energy storage units in Iacon. Don't worry, they haven't called me in yet, and if they do I promise I won't talk."

"I don't like this," Prisma whispered worriedly, "Dirge doesn't play around. I know this is just a backwater unit, but the Decepticons placed a very capable interrogator here. I don't want you to be killed, or worse. Please Comet, if you are cornered just tell them what you know. You're not a soldier. You don't have to endure this."

"Yes, I do," Comet replied resolutely, "Prisma, these Decepticons are a blight on our planet. We might just be messengers for the Autobots, and neither of us fight worth a slag I know, but we have to stay strong for the future of Cybertron. We will get out of this together. I promise."

"Actually, I've been thinking about that," Prisma told him hesitantly, "Thrust, the current taskmaster, is a member of Dirge's trine. Maybe I could talk to him, feel him out, see if he knows about the storage units. If he mentions it, then I'll know you're in trouble and we can prepare, but if he doesn't then we'll know you're safe."

" _Don't_ ," Comet replied sternly, "Don't go near him. Reminding a Decepticon guard you exist is just asking to be raped, beaten, and killed. Thrust's trine commander is in charge of this whole facility. Thrust knows he can do whatever he wants to us and no one will say anything. Just forget about it."

"But Comet, he could be useful-" Prisma tried to argue.

" _No_!" Comet snapped, "Look, he's alone. Every day he refuels alone. He obviously doesn't want anyone else around. He's just like every other Decepticon: antisocial and cruel. _Please_ , just stay here."

Prisma thought about her older brother's words. He made several good points. She would risk a lot to gain very little information. The problem was he had been protecting her every step of the way since the war began. He was only captured because she got caught and he surrendered so they wouldn't be separated. Prisma knew she had done little to nothing to contribute to the Autobot cause. She was dead weight, and she wanted to do something, anything, to make a difference. Besides, no one else trusted her after she saved Thrust's life. She had to prove she was still a real Autobot.

"I'll be back in a few breems," Prisma said quickly before getting up and walking over to Thrust's table.

" _Prisma_! _No_!" Comet hissed as he helplessly watched her walk over to the Decepticon.

Thrust sighed again as he swirled the remaining contents of his energon cube and watched the sparks that fizzled on top of the liquid. The cube was almost empty. That was how he felt; as if someone had drained him and there wasn't much left. He wasn't as sad about his uncle as he had been. Now he was just...empty.

"Excuse me?" He suddenly heard a feminine voice, and looked up to see Prisma standing over him holding her cube of energon and looking down at him, "Um, may I sit here, sir?"

Thrust couldn't believe this was really happening! He had watched Prisma from afar for 10 orns, but had never actually spoken to her since the first time they met, and yet here she was; talking to him and asking to refuel with him! It was like a dream, and that was enough to make him temporarily forget his pain.

"Y-yes, please sit," Thrust stammered as he gestured to the place next to him on the ground, "So, um...I'm surprised you're here, actually. I know you usually like to dine with your brother."

"You keep track of that!?" Prisma asked nervously as her optics grew wide with fear.

"Not on purpose!" Thrust quickly exclaimed; feeling exposed for almost telling her he watched her, "I just, uh, observe things. I'm a very observant guy. I know everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I'm very observant when I want to be. That's how I got this job. By being...observant." Thrust trailed off quietly; feeling flustered.

Prisma listened to his words carefully, and noticed he was acting almost bashful in her presence. That gave her good news and bad news. The bad news was that he was attracted to her, which could lead to trouble. The good news was that he wasn't forceful when he was attracted to someone...at least not yet. She had to remind herself she was there for a reason, and she had to stay focused.

"I can imagine you are quite observant," Prisma replied agreeably, "I'll bet you know everything that goes on around the gulag, don't you sir?"

Thrust giggled at the comment; loving the attention and praise from his crush.

"I'll bet you also know the status of every prisoner here, don't you?" Prisma added; trying to flatter him in an attempt to get his guard down.

"Of course I do," Thrust preened as he spoke, "I am in charge of all of you, after all."

"Do you know anything about my brother?" Prisma asked conspiratorially, "Don't worry sir, I won't tell. You see, I uh, I had a fight with my brother. Yeah that's it, a fight. I would love to know if he has ever been trouble or will be in trouble in the future. It's something I can use against him. As a cunning Decepticon warrior, I'm sure you can understand the need for an edge, right?"

Thrust's smile suddenly fell. He didn't like this at all. Comet was her brother. He would never want to use blackmail material against his brothers unless it was something minor like an embarrassing snapshot or teasing them about a thing they couldn't hide. What she was talking about though was potentially harmful information on the only relative she had in here with her. After losing his uncle, Thrust couldn't look at that the same way again.

"Prisma, if I hear you talk like that again, the only edge you're gonna have is the edge of a blade to your neck cables," Thrust growled low; his infatuation replaced with anger, "Now, because I like you, I'm giving you one chance to change the subject without reprisal. I suggest you think of something quick."

Prisma thought his anger was from her trying to get information out of him. She was sure she had been caught, and was fearful of what Thrust would tell his superiors. She didn't want to be killed or sent to Dirge, so she thought quickly for something else to say to ease the tension.

"Um...I notice the rations are getting smaller," Prisma pointed out, but then winced as she realized she had just complained to the one providing her energon in the first place, "No, what I mean is, they are, uh… _I'm sorry_!"

Prisma closed her optics and made herself as small as she could. Thrust saw her curl up into a fetal position, and suddenly he felt bad for her all over again. She kind of reminded him of himself given he was also the coward and the screw-up of his group. He wanted so much to impress her that he forgot about how terrified she would be of her Decepticon taskmaster. Slowly, carefully, Thrust put his servo on her back. She flinched, but he didn't move his servo.

"Shh...it's okay, sweet spark," Thrust whispered softly to Prisma, "I'm not mad at you anymore. Come on, you still have a little energon left. Come on, talk to me. Look at me. I won't hurt you. Promise."

Prisma slowly sat back up and watched Thrust with wary optics. She knew most Decepticon soldiers had nasty and unpredictable tempers. It seemed Thrust was no different. She had no idea of the torment his processor had been putting him through, and he had no idea of how worried she was for her brother's life. All they knew was that he had been angry, and she had been deceitful. Neither one knew why, and therefore could do nothing except pretend it didn't happen.

* * *

Three orns later Ramjet got a comm from a superior in Kaon about a mission he and his trine was assigned to. He read over the specifics of the mission, and could barely believe _this_ was what they were assigned to. This mission was an insult to Decepticons everywhere! Then again, if they succeeded then they might be able to get out of this dead-end prison gig.

He called his brothers in immediately. Thrust came running and was there within a breem. Dirge, of course, took longer. It wasn't that Dirge was lazy; he simply had more responsibility around the gulag than he could handle. Ramjet had been hollering for deca-orns that he needed more staff in this joint, but no one was willing to send him anybody, so his mechs all had to pull multiple duties (except Thrust who was incompetent).

Dirge finally arrived after 20 breems, and Ramjet was seeing red when his right brother came strolling in with a bored look on his face plate as if he weren't late at all.

"Glad to see you could finally join us," Ramjet growled sarcastically, "Will you need anything before we start the briefing, _your majesty_?"

"Very funny," Dirge deadpanned, "What is this about?"

"Our mission is to go to the outer edges of Nuon and find this mech," Ramjet said as he pulled up a picture of an orange construction minibot that transformed into a crane, "He's one of the Autobots' best constructors. He's been seen around an ancient temple outside Nuon for the past 8 orns making repairs."

"Is our job to assassinate this minibot?" Dirge asked impassively.

"No, that's the worst part," Ramjet grumbled dejectedly, "Our job is to find him and convince him to join _our_ side."

"Wait a breem!" Thrust exclaimed, "Why would we want to recruit a _minibot_? Who ever heard of a Decepticon minibot? They're weak!"

"Normally, yes," Ramjet replied, "But apparently this guy's got an armor hide that would make Devastator jealous, and skills that would make the individual Constructicons green and purple with envy. Commander Blitzwing sent me an information packet on the guy, but admittedly there isn't much here beyond his armor's specs."

"Is there anything useful at all?" Dirge asked longsufferingly.

"Hm...It says he's quiet, and has never been seen firing a weapon," Ramjet read off, " _Slaggit all_! This stupid chart doesn't even give the mech's name!"

"So when do we leave?" Thrust asked in an effort to refocus Ramjet's attention away from his anger.

"Now," Ramjet said with authority, "I don't wanna take any longer than necessary. Just remember, by any means necessary we have to convince this guy he wants to be a 'Con."

" _Any_ means, you say?" Dirge asked with a glint in his optic, "I can work with that."

The trio left the briefing room and transformed so they could take to the skies. Nuon was 3 joors away from their current location, and they were all eager to get there. Thrust wanted to go because it was a real mission, Dirge wanted to go to test out different persuasion techniques (most of them painful), and Ramjet just wanted to finish this quickly so he could get on with his life.

* * *

They made it to the temple to see the orange and silver minibot polishing a statue of Maximus Prime. He hummed to himself and didn't even notice when the three Decepticons landed and approached him. His comm link had been broken for a few deca-orns, but the minibot didn't mind. He enjoyed being alone among the relics without the intrusion of others.

"Hey, minibot!" Ramjet shouted; causing the mech to jump straight into the air before turning around to face them, "Hey there, short stuff. The name's Ramjet, and these are my trinemates Thrust and Dirge. Hey, don't look so scared. We don't wanna kill you just yet. We just wanna talk."

The minibot eyed them skeptically, but nonetheless subspaced his cleaning rag and looked up at Ramjet to wait for him to continue speaking.

"So mini, you got a name?" Ramjet asked casually.

"...Yes," The minibot replied evasively.

They waited for the crane-former to continue, but he never did. He just stared at them with wide blue optics and wrung his servos together nervously.

"Let me ask you something," Dirge spoke up next, "What are you doing out here all alone?"

"Um...The fighting got pretty close to the ancient Memorial of The Primes," The minibot explained in a timid voice; a voice that did not match the bulky armored mech, "I was worried the building had been damaged. Soldiers can be so careless with our planet's historical artifacts. Um, no offense of course."

"None taken," Thrust replied with a lopsided grin before he was punched in the arm by Ramjet, "Ow!"

"So, you like old stuff, huh?" Ramjet asked.

"Yes," The minibot replied simply, "Um, are you going to destroy the temple?"

"We might," Dirge said with a malicious smirk, "Of course, you can prevent that…"

"I don't want to fight you," The minibot replied quickly, "I'm a pacifist. I just repair things. That's all."

"You'll change your mind," Ramjet said coolly, "They always do. Listen shorty, the deal is this: you join the Decepticons, and we don't blow your precious memorial to smithereens. What do you say?"

"You don't want me," The minibot shook his helm, "Trust me, your unit would be the laughing stock of the Decepticons. My unit already has issues with me. That's why I'm allowed so much time to myself."

"Issues?" Thrust asked, "What kind of issues?"

"I'm an embarrassment to the Autobots," The minibot replied shamefully, "I can't help the way I was programmed though. I was sparked by vector sigma to a mean mech that enjoyed degrading his employees. My sister has it even worse than I do. She can't even carry a gun without someone mentioning it."

"Mentioning what?" Thrust asked; his curiosity eating away at him.

Before he could get his answer, a grey truck-former came rolling in and transformed in front of the minibot, standing over him protectively. The larger Autobot aimed his cannons at the Decepticons and looked down to make sure the minibot wasn't hurt.

"Yo Erector, these guys givin' you trouble?" The grey truck asked.

"No, I'm fine," Erector replied; though his tone was one of defeat.

Ramjet started snickering, and before long they were all laughing their helms off! A mech named _Erector_? That was too priceless!

"Yeah, keep laughin' 'Cons!" The truck-former snapped, "You won't laugh when I shoot your helms right off your neck cables!"

"Don't bother," Erector sighed, "Let's just leave while they're distracted. As usual."

"Hey..." Thrust managed to say between laughs, "...If it's...any consolation, I know how you feel. Try going to the military academy with a name like Thrust."

"Eh, it beats Erector," Erector shrugged, "Can we go now? I still have to tend to a statue in Iacon. Then I need to take my sister Discharge to the target range."

Ramjet scowled at Erector's blasé attitude even as his brothers burst out laughing again, but ultimately decided to allow the little mech to go free. He would've killed him, but decided having the designation Erector was punishment enough. The trine flew off without the minibot, but raided an energon plant on the way home so the evening wouldn't be a total loss.

* * *

Several orns later Thrust was finally allowed to transfer to a different assignment. He was given the duty of nighttime patrol around the compound; a job that usually went to Powerdown. Thrust was excited to prove his worth, but also a bit disappointed that he wasn't a taskmaster anymore. It meant no more underlings to push around, and more importantly no more Prisma. She didn't talk to him after what happened last time, but he had still hoped she would. Now he only saw her when she slept in the outdoor cell with the other prisoners.

On this particular orn Thrust was flying over the compound for a few breems in between walking patrols. He was supposed to walk since it used less energon, but flying was so much faster. Besides, when Thrust flew he could see everything.

He was high above the gulag when he saw two of the guards on patrol wrangling two prisoners out of their cell. Thrust was curious as to what was so important that it couldn't wait until morning, so he dove down and transformed to land.

By the time he flew down the guards were already gone with their prisoners. Dirge was walking out of his quarters looking tired and annoyed. Thrust put two and two together and figured out Dirge was being called on to either repair or interrogate prisoners.

"Hey Dirge, what's going on?" Thrust asked curiously.

"If I knew who to blame I would shoot them," Dirge muttered irritably as he trudged toward his 'office', otherwise known as the examination room, "Trigger woke me up to tell me one of our prisoners has coordinates to an Autobot controlled energon warehouse. I have to make him talk. Ugh, this is going to take all night! I do everything around here! Why won't they let me recharge in peace?"

Thrust was listening to his brother's complaining, but he was also counting the prisoners to determine which ones were taken. His tanks dropped when he quickly figured out which two were gone...Prisma and Comet!


	6. Persuasion Part II

_Author's Notes: Well, after taking way too long again I finally put up part two to Persuasion. I hope you guys like this chapter. It's one I've had planned for months but haven't had a lot of time to write until recently. Please favorite, follow, and review :)_

* * *

Chapter 6

Persuasion Part II

Thrust's processor was nearly frozen in panic. Prisma had been taken to the interrogation chamber. Dirge was going to hurt Prisma. His Prisma was in danger. Prisma was probably going to die. This cruel string of thoughts played in his processor on loop, but he managed to snap out of it after a breem. He looked around and saw that Dirge was already gone. He had to follow him!

Thrust ran into the building that housed the medbay, interrogation rooms, and waste storage and disposal room. Yes, the garbage room was adjacent to the medbay. Yes, the troops complained. No, Ramjet wasn't going to do anything about it.

Thrust found Dirge in the small tool room that was adjacent to Examination Room Beta. _Room_ was too generous a word; it was more like a walk-in closet.

Dirge was sterilizing his implements, some rather brutal and archaic looking tools, and Thrust knew he had to stop him. Still, this was his brother. He would have to play it casual rather than try to fight him.

"Hey Dirge, I've always wondered," Thrust said nonchalantly from behind Dirge's wings, "If those instruments are used to torture and kill mechs, then why do you bother to sterilize them? I mean, who cares if they're clean? You're just using them on a dead mech anyway."

"Don't you have a job to do elsewhere?" Dirge asked; annoyed, "I don't have time to talk you through another password change or whatever issue has come up tonight. I just want to do this quickly and go back to my nice warm berth."

"Say, Dirge," Thrust tried to look disinterested by leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his cockpit, "If you're really that tired, then I could interrogate the prisoners for you. Just tell me what I'm supposed to learn from them, and I'll get that information faster than you can say _holy slag_!"

"You expect me to trust you with my equipment, not to mention my assignment?" Dirge asked derisively, " _Please_. Just because you haven't screwed up lately doesn't mean we can trust you to not blow it now. Besides, interrogation requires skill, patience, and the ability to intimidate others. You're just a schoolyard bully. This job requires a _monster_."

"I don't think you're a monster," Thrust replied with a shrug.

"Of course you don't," Dirge replied as he rolled his optics, "You're my brother. Besides, you're used to my fear-inducing sonic frequency. They're not. That's why I'm kept away from the prisoners, so that they can't build up an immunity to my nightmarish sounds. Now, fly along Thrust. I have work to do."

"Oh, come on! Let me do this, Dirge!" Thrust whined, "I just want to prove that I can be useful! Besides, it means you'll get to recharge faster..."

Of course Thrust, for once, didn't care about proving himself at all. He was only interested in keeping Dirge away from his femme. He could care less about the other saucer-former, but he had to save his beautiful and kind Prisma from the pits of oblivion.

" _Fine_ ," Dirge finally sighed in resignation, "The prisoner's name is Comet. He has information on the location of a large cache of energon stored somewhere in Iacon. Ramjet wants exact coordinates so that we can steal it from the Autobots. We also brought in Comet's younger sister Prisma. You will ask him questions, and every time he denies knowledge of the warehouse, lies to your face, or defies you in any way, you are to punish Prisma. Hurting Comet will yield no results. According to his psychological profile he cares more about the suffering of others than that of himself. Just remember, Comet is the enemy, and Prisma is his spark. Do whatever is necessary to get that intel. Oh, and don't wake me up unless you want one of my scalpels jammed in your optic. Any questions?"

"Won't you just have to repair the optic later?" Thrust asked with an impish smirk; feigning ignorance to tease his brother.

Dirge groaned softly and then walked out of the room/closet. Thrust was alone, and his femme was on the other side of that door; probably terrified. Thrust wanted to go in right away and take her back to her cell, but that would be foolish. He began to think about the situation and what it could mean for him.

Ramjet always said that a good Decepticon seizes every opportunity to get ahead in life. Thrust held Comet's and Prisma's lives in his servos, and all the Decepticon military wanted was a set of coordinates to a lousy warehouse. Thrust would get nothing for that. He probably wouldn't even get credit for making Comet talk! No, if he was to get his reward he would have to play his own game. A plan was forming, and soon he knew exactly how to get what he really wanted...

* * *

Comet and Prisma were both strapped to separate tables; suspended in an upright position facing each other. They had been there for a quarter joor and yet no one had come in to interrogate them. Dirge was taking a long time, and Comet suspected it was a purposeful attempt to cause added stress to their sparks. Well, it was working. With every passing astro second both Autobots' imaginations went wild with the grim possibilities awaiting them.

The door finally opened, and Comet saw that it wasn't Dirge handling their interrogation, but their old taskmaster Thrust. He scowled at the dark red jet, but he didn't say anything. No sense exchanging snarky comments when nothing had happened yet.

"Well, it seems you two are in quite the predicament..." Thrust needled the two saucers as he walked around the berths in an almost predatory way, "From what I understand, the Autobots have been holding out on us," Thrust then turned to Comet and stared him square in the optic as he coolly said, "We know you know the location of a warehouse full of energy. A warehouse the Autobots are hiding from their old pals the Decepticons. Now, that ain't very nice, is it?"

"The Autobots in that area will starve without those reserves!" Comet shouted angrily at the seeker, "I don't care what you do to me, I will never talk!"

Thrust's grin only widened at those words, but Comet didn't allow the Decepticon to see just how afraid he actually was; instead glaring at him defiantly.

"Do you know what Dirge told me to do if you refuse to cooperate?" Thrust asked rhetorically, "He told me to hurt Prisma. He said for every refusal you give me, I make you watch as your sister is forced to suffer at my servos."

Prisma gasped, and Comet's stone-faced facade slightly crumbled as his mouth twitched. It was enough though. Thrust knew he was listening now.

"If you dare to hurt Prisma I'll…!" Comet barked, but then didn't finish his thought when he realized just how helpless he was.

"Now, now, Comet. No need to get testy," Thrust replied mockingly, "Believe it or not, I'm not a sparkless monster. I know I'm supposed to hurt, probably even kill Prisma if you defy me, but I'm willing to be generous and show both of you mercy...for a price."

"What do you want, you filthy 'Con?" Comet growled suspiciously.

"Oh, my offer isn't for _you_ ," Thrust replied; amusement clear in his tone, "My offer is for Prisma."

He then turned to where the small femme was shackled to the table and touched her chin in a way that was tender yet very intimidating. She knew that hungry look in his optic, she had seen it from other Decepticons, and she could already guess what he wanted from her.

"My offer is simple, my dear," Thrust purred in what he hoped was a seductive voice, "I will forget all about the warehouse info, and I'll let Comet go free...if you agree to be my bondmate."

"Don't do it, Prisma!" Comet shouted frantically, "Don't you dare touch her, you piece of slagging scum! Leave her alone!"

"You...you would free Comet?" Prisma asked in a small voice as she looked at Thrust with a combination of fear and hope, "You would allow him to leave this prison alive?"

"Yes, I would do that for you," Thrust assured her as he lovingly held her cheek in his servo, "Please say yes. I'll be a good bondmate to you, I promise. I can give you a good life. Enough energon, a decent shelter, and a place on my berth next to me. I'm sure my trinemates will learn to love you, too. I want to wake up every orn to your beautiful face plate next to mine. I promise I'll treat you right. You'll never have to worry about hard labor or the threat of a firing squad again. What do you say, Prisma? Will you be mine, forever?"

Prisma looked down at the ground as much as her bonds would allow her to. She took in a deep intake, and offlined her optics in thought. Thrust could tell she was still thinking, and he held his own intakes in anticipation and anxiety. If she said no he didn't know what he would do.

"Prisma, don't be fooled by that Decepticon!" Comet shouted desperately, and Thrust was tempted to shoot the mouthy mech, "Remember how seekers deal with their bondmates! If you belong to Thrust then you belong to all three of them! It's better to die than to become a mere toy for these terrorists! Please Prisma, use your common sense!"

Thrust could see Prisma visibly shake at the mention of his trinemates. He hadn't taken into consideration how fearful she might be of them. Ramjet was leader of the gulag, and Dirge was the interrogator (not counting this time). She might not want to be near them. He also wondered if perhaps they would hate him for allowing an Autobot femme into the bond. These thoughts upset Thrust, but they weren't enough to dissuade him. All he needed from her was a yes.

"Thrust..." Prisma's voice sounded so quiet and defeated as she spoke, and Thrust had to strain just to hear her, "...If you will keep your word and release Comet, then I will submit to you. Please just help him. Comet is only in here because of me. He doesn't deserve this, please. I'll bond with you just...please..."

"Haha!" Thrust pumped his fist in victory, and quickly flipped the switch to allow Prisma out of her bonds so that he could twirl her around the room, "Oh, Prisma! You've made me so happy! I'll be the best bondmate ever! I promise, I promise, I promise!" He then excitedly pressed her into a tight embrace, "Oh, sweet spark! We will be so happy! We'll make passionate love every night and grow old together when the war is over. Oh Prisma, _Prisma_! I'm the luckiest mech in the world!"

Thrust pulled her back to look at her as he grinned like a sparkling with energon goodies. He noticed however that she wasn't looking back at him, and she wasn't smiling. Her optics were downcast in shame and her expression was one of miserable resignation.

Suddenly the room was very quiet, and Thrust could just barely make out the sounds of Comet's dental plates grinding in barely repressed anger. This no longer felt like the victory it had a moment ago. Prisma didn't love him. She was merely using her own freedom as payment for Comet's. Thrust knew he should be angry that she was ruining his victory (as any good Decepticon would feel) but at the moment all he could feel was hurt.

"Prisma?" Thrust said softly as he turned her chin to force her to look at him, "Do you think you could ever learn to love me? Really?"

Prisma shut her optics tight, as though it would somehow magically make the situation go away. She took a deep intake before she spoke.

"I...I will try," Prisma managed to say without breaking down, "Please don't hurt Comet. I promise I won't run away. I will be a good bondmate and show respect for you and your trine. I beg you to keep your word and release my brother, please."

"...No," Thrust said stonily, and Prisma look up at him in horror.

"No, wait!" Prisma pleaded, "I don't know what I've done wrong, but I'll fix it! Thrust, sir, _please_ don't take back your word! You mustn't!"

"Prisma...I can't do this," Thrust shook his helm sadly, "I can't go through with this deal."

Thrust then walked over to Comet's berth, and Prisma tried to physically stop him by pulling on his wings. She wasn't strong enough to even slow him down however, and he made it to Comet's berthside in three long quick strides. Comet glared at Thrust while Prisma wrapped herself around Thrust's waist in a last ditch effort to keep him away from her brother. Prisma was screaming at him to stop and Comet was struggling to get free, but much to their surprise Thrust merely flipped the switch that released the shackles and Comet fell to the floor in a heap.

Comet stood up and looked at the larger Decepticon in bewilderment. Prisma let go of his waist and likewise stared up at him in confusion. Thrust then pulled a gun out of his subspace, and both prisoners cringed to ready themselves for the fatal shots, but instead Thrust handed the gun to Comet!

"It's a stun gun," Thrust explained, "Make it look convincing."

Comet just stared down at the gun like he had never seen one before, and Prisma looked up at Thrust with a renewed softness and astonishment in her optics.

"You're allowing _both of us_ to go free?" Prisma asked in awe, "But why? You had us trapped and at your mercy. You got everything you wanted, so why are you doing this?"

"I didn't get what I wanted," Thrust shook his helm ruefully, "I wanted you to love me. Even if I had forced you to bond with me, you still wouldn't have loved me. You would've been mine, but you would've been unhappy. I don't want you to be unhappy. If letting you go is the only thing that will make you happy, then I'll do it. I just wish you weren't on the wrong end of this slagging war. Then maybe we could've had something together."

"Maybe," Prisma nodded.

She then gently hugged Thrust, and he thought his spark would stop in his chassis. She was actually hugging him! He returned the hug with a contented smile, and was beginning to feel less bad about the decision he had made.

"Just so you know, I think you're a good mech deep down," Prisma told Thrust, "And you're not unattractive. You are right about one thing though, I can't be happy being forced to bond with a Decepticon. Maybe someday when the war is over we will meet again. For now though, I am grateful for what you are doing for us. Thank you so much."

"Alright Prisma, back up!" Comet abruptly shouted, "I need a clear shot!"

Thrust grumbled under his vocalizer. He was happy that Prisma and her brother would have a chance at a new life, but he hated it that he had to get shot in order to give it to them. Comet took aim and then fired at Thrust's helm; knocking him out. Thrust would later wake up to his brothers yelling at him for botching his interrogation; unaware of the sabotage that had been committed.


	7. Transfers Part I

_Author's Notes: So far this is the only fic that has multiple part chapter names, and this is the second time I've done it in the same fic. Weird. Anyway, I'm pretty happy with how this chapter came out, and I hope you like it too. I'm just sorry it took so long. Please don't forget to review, and I hope you have a great week :)_

* * *

Chapter 7

Transfers Part I

Ramjet and his trine spent the next 100 vorns working in the gulag in the wasteland with no name. The more time that went by the more the three Coneheads got used to a certain routine. Dirge repaired Decepticons and broke Autobots in every way imaginable. Thrust worked the patrols and shot at anyone that attempted to break into the prison to free Autobot and Neutral prisoners. Ramjet kept his command with no one willing to challenge him. Then again, who would challenge Ramjet when the prize was leadership over a desolate dump?

Thrust never went back to guarding prisoners. As much as he loved the power trip, he began to realize just how much he disliked killing those that couldn't fight back. Oh sure, he loved kicking minibots around and terrorizing prisoners, but a prison guard sometimes had to kill rebellious inmates or those that could no longer work, and Thrust just didn't have the spark for it. He kept this a secret from his brothers, but he suspected that they probably knew.

Dirge meanwhile was slowly losing any sense of morality that he might've had when he first joined Ramjet and started squatting in this fetid sewer they called a gulag. His job was to serve the Decepticons at the cost of any other entity, and he did this job quite well. When a prisoner died at his hands he felt he had done them a favor, since their lives were to be spent in a death camp anyway. Deep down he believed more damage was done to the living than the dead.

Sometimes Dirge would think about his family. His grandsire was the sole provider for his two surviving uncles, and he was also still able-bodied enough to produce more symbiotes on behalf of the Decepticons. He wondered what life would be like for his grandsire now that he served Megatron just as Dirge and his trine did. Stereopticon was a gentle spark, and Spinreel and Shellshock weren't exactly subtle in their distaste for the Decepticons. Could they survive the fate they had been dealt?

Their orns were spent in monotony, and it was almost too much for Ramjet to handle. He had ambitions, and had expected more by this point in his life. He had promised Thrust and Dirge that they would be powerful someday. This wasn't power! This was a consolation prize compared to what true power could be. Ramjet did his duty and supported his brothers, but deep in his spark he constantly worried that he was failing them by not leading them to a greater assignment.

Many times Ramjet would request a triad transfer for himself and his brothers. He didn't care if he couldn't command wherever they went next. He was simply tired of the drudgery of their current position. They would never get anywhere if they couldn't get out of this unforgiving place.

He didn't know why it was taking so long. Seven times they had been denied the transfer. He didn't understand. Ramjet was strong and willing to attack any opponent no matter how intimidating. Dirge had a sigma ability that caused fear in his enemies, and Thrust was...was...well, he had perfect attendance.

On this orn Ramjet was interviewing new transfers to his gulag, and was half-tempted to tell them they had been sent to a pit from which there was no escape, but settled on instead barking his tutorial at them like he always did.

"Now, if a prisoner revolt occurs, you are to storm in and subdue the prisoners by any means necessary, up to and including execution," Ramjet told the four rookies, "Your rations are given to you at the same location as the prisoners' rations, but you are under no obligation to eat with them. As long as the mess hall is locked when you leave you may refuel anywhere you choose. Now, are there any questions?"

The four rookies looked at each other, but none said anything. They seemed too afraid of Ramjet to ask him whatever was on their processors, which was annoying to Ramjet but not something he felt like addressing.

"Um, sir?" One of them finally spoke up after an awkward silence, "Do any of us have to work with Dirge?"

Ramjet growled and rubbed his face plate with his servo in frustration. He got this question _every single time._ How did so many mechs know about Dirge? It was insulting to his brother that everybody assumed the rumors about experimentation on fellow Decepticons was true. Truth be told Dirge didn't have the creative processor for something like that.

"Ask me that again and you're _all_ working with Dirge," Ramjet threatened, and everyone gulped in unison, "Now, any questions that actually pertain to your jobs?"

One lone cadet was brave enough to raise his servo before asking, "Sir, do any of us have to work with you?"

This elicited snickers from the other recruits, and Ramjet glared at them angrily.

"That's it! You're all on waste management detail!" Ramjet bellowed, "Get the frag out of my office!"

The four young Decepticons scrambled to get to the door and out of Ramjet's sight. As they pushed past each other to get away, they caused a mech who was just entering to nearly fall backward. The new mech recovered, and came into the office with as much dignity as he could muster.

"I didn't invite you in," Ramjet sneered.

"Nor did you have to, since I outrank you," The mech replied haughtily, "My name is Octane, and I'm here with an important message for Ramjet, Dirge, and Thrust."

"I'm Ramjet. What's this all about?" Ramjet asked as he sprawled his servos across his desk.

"I work with the fuel distribution and regiment transfer department," Octane explained, "Due to massive casualties involving Decepticon officers, an opportunity has opened up for mechs that rank Lt. or higher, as well as their gestalt mates and/or trine mates."

"What kind of opportunity?" Ramjet asked skeptically; though inwardly was hoping this was for real.

"Before I answer, I will need to ask you a few questions to confirm you are worthy," Octane replied with an impish smirk, "First of all, do you or any of your trine mates have special abilities either through vector coding, experimentation, or bodily upgrades?"

"Dirge has a sigma ability," Ramjet answered, "He produces a sound that drives Cybertronians and organics crazy with fear."

"A sound-based ability?" Octane asked in mild surprise, "That is usually something reserved for carrier hosts or their symbiotes. Almost unheard of for a seeker frame type."

"His mother's side has carrier host and cassette coding," Ramjet replied.

"Alright, next question," Octane continued without missing a beat, "Would you consider your energon consumption to be average, above average, or below average?"

"Average," Ramjet replied, "Though I don't see why that matters."

"Third question," Octane replied after jotting down the answer on a data pad, "If Megatron were killed or otherwise incapacitated, who do you believe is best suited to replace him?"

"Is that a trick question?" Ramjet asked derisively, "Megatron can't die. He's Megatron! If he couldn't defeat Optimus Prime and everything else that stands in his way, then he wouldn't be leader in the first place!"

"Alright then," Octane replied without giving feedback on Ramjet's answer, "Final question, "Are you open to exploring new environments beyond Cybertron?"

"Beyond Cybertron?" Ramjet asked quietly, stunned by the question, but then replied with an enthusiastic, "Slag yes I'm willing! My brothers and I will go anywhere and do anything to further Decepticon supremacy."

"Then congratulations," Octane replied with an insincere smile, "You and your trine are deemed worthy to join Megatron's inner circle. Do you accept?"

"M-M-Megatron's...?" Ramjet stammered as his optics bulged in disbelief, "We...I mean I...we...get to work with...we get to work with the slag maker himself?"

"That's what I said," Octane replied; unfazed, "Megatron has lost many of his troops in the last battle in Iacon, and many Decepticons will be needed for the latest project. This assignment will involve the construction and voyage of a ship to search the galaxy for new sources of energon. The Autobots are planning a similar journey, but we must be the ones to come home with that energon. He who controls the fuel controls the world, and the Decepticons must be the ones to control that fuel. Do you think you can handle that kind of pressure?"

"Definitely," Ramjet nodded firmly, "Whatever it takes. When do we leave?"

"Two orns from now," Octane told him, "Megatron is currently at Darkmount getting everything ready for the journey. You and your trine must be there on time if you are to claim your positions as the secondary trine."

"Secondary trine!?" Ramjet choked, "Us? We get to work with Commander Starscream and the elite trine?"

"I have to go. There are some triple changers in Altihex that are also being recruited, and then I have to deliver energon to the Constructicons," Octane brushed aside Ramjet's sense of awe with a wave of his servo, "Just be sure to be there on time. Oh, and pack everything. This trip could take a while."

Ramjet nodded even as Octane turned his back on the white and grey Conehead and left. Ramjet couldn't believe it. Three seekers from the backwater of Cybertron were going to work with giants like Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave? He was overjoyed at the opportunity. He had finally kept his promise to his brothers, and they were finally going to be big shots.

* * *

The Coneheads didn't even wait an orn before packing up everything they owned in their subspaces and leaving. Ramjet left Powerdown in command of the gulag, and gave Trigger Dirge's old job. Thrust's patrol was split between Outburst and one of the new cadets. Ramjet knew Powerdown was soft on the prisoners, but he was a fair mech to the crew and very efficient. Besides, it wasn't Ramjet's problem anymore so he didn't care.

The trine bond was filled with excitement and anticipation that was so profound it was hard to tell where one seeker's emotions ended and another's began. They were _the_ _secondary trine_. Out of every trine on Cybertron Megatron had picked them! They were going on a super secret mission and going to meet the elite trine in person! Ramjet was beaming with pride, Thrust was as giddy as a sparkling at a playground, and even Dirge felt pumped up for what they were going to encounter.

They made it to Darkmount an orn early, but then Ramjet realized too late he hadn't called anyone to say they were coming.

"Aw, slaggit!" Ramjet cursed after he transformed, "We need to find a place to stay until next orn. I didn't call ahead!"

"That's okay. I'm sure we can find something in Polyhex," Thrust replied agreeably; too happy about the journey to care about the hang-ups.

"My grandsire lived in this city when I was a youngling," Dirge told them, "I can show you around what's left of it."

Ramjet agreed and the three of them flew off to try to find a motel or some other place to stay in. As they observed the city from above Empties saw the trine and took cover as quickly as possible. The Empties were so used to Decepticon bombings that a seeker trine was automatically feared whether they posed a real threat or not. Most of the buildings were abandoned and structurally unstable. The only places that looked lived in were the Decepticon barracks that surrounded Darkmount, as well as Darkmount itself.

Dirge was sure he could find a decent place for them to recharge, but nothing felt alive in this city anymore. Dirge could barely pick out where any of his favorite places had once been. Even the building where Stereopticon and his cassette progeny had once lived was gone now. There was nothing the war and time hadn't touched. Dirge felt a sadness in his spark that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. The war had always been there, so its prolonged effects rarely got to him. This, however, made him long for his family and the places they used to go.

"I'm tired!" Thrust complained, "Can we stop?"

"Yeah Dirge, what looks safe?" Ramjet demanded to know.

Dirge looked around, but all of the buildings looked the same. He decided to go with a small flat building that he was pretty sure used to be a tavern. The Coneheads all dove down and transformed before entering the dark abandoned structure.

"It's so dusty in here," Thrust commented, "Hey look, there are maps on the wall! Does that mean this is a military safe point?"

"No, those are just for decoration," Dirge replied in a bored tone of voice, "Actually, now that I see this place, I think I've been here before. Several times, actually."

"Oh yeah? You know where they keep the cellar?" Ramjet asked, "Maybe we'll find some spare cubes."

"I'm pretty sure the Empties have picked this place clean by now," Dirge replied, "I suppose the tables would make decent berths."

"They're too small," Thrust pointed out, "And they're circular. We'd fall off."

"Fine then. I guess we're recharging on the floor tonight," Ramjet nodded with grim resolve, "Tomorrow we'll need to fly to the nearest barracks and get cleaned up. Don't wanna look like slobs in front of Megatron."

"Agreed," Dirge nodded before lying down on the hard dust covered floor, "Goodnight Ramjet. Goodnight Dirge."

"Goodnight Dirge. Goodnight Ramjet," Thrust replied, "Don't let the turbo rats bite. Seriously, I think I saw turbo rats a few breems ago."

"See you tomorrow, guys," Ramjet mumbled; already half-asleep.

Ramjet began to snore loudly like he always did. The other two Coneheads were used to sharing a room with him and found it hard to recharge without the sound of his snoring. Thrust went to sleep right away as well, but Dirge couldn't sleep. Being in this rusted out former tavern, surrounded by his memories, he just couldn't make his processor settle down.

* * *

Dirge's carrier sat across the table from him nursing her high grade. He didn't know what to say in situations like these. When she had given him the news that she had returned home he had flown back to Polyhex as soon as possible. He had taken her out someplace affordable since neither one of them liked fancy establishments. Dirge often felt he got his simple tastes and placid mannerisms from his carrier's side of the family. His carrier, his Grandsire, and his Uncle Forge were all very mild-mannered (unlike his other uncles).

Dirge drank his own cube of zinc-infused mid grade in relative silence. He didn't know what to say to her in moments like these, but he had to say something. She needed to know he wasn't going to abandon her in a difficult time like this. He couldn't help but notice how much older she looked. Her pink paint was fading, and her servos would begin to shake every now and then. He would honestly be surprised if she could transform them anymore. That prison camp had really done a number on her.

"Do you believe in the matrix, Dirge?" She suddenly asked him; forcing him out of his awkward stupor.

"Not really," Dirge shrugged, "I didn't think you did either."

"I don't know," She admitted as she took another sip of her energon, "I've thought about it a lot. After your sire left me I became a target. You always think it's going to happen to some other neutral, never to you. I always tried to let you make up your own processor Dirge. I don't know if you're doing the right thing, but I'm beginning to believe you're doing the safe thing. How is your sire? I haven't seen either of you since you were a youngling. I wish Pall had come to see me."

Her processor was wandering, and she sounded much frailer than she used to. Dirge was too young to deal with complicated situations like these. He had only had his own apartment for half a vorn, and he was still awkward when it came to conversation. That was especially true now when confronted with his carrier's fragile health and fading memory.

"Sire is dead, Carrier," Dirge informed her; surprised she didn't already know, "Grandsire took me in after Sire was shot down in Iacon. Oh, and Uncle Spinreel, Uncle Shellshock, Uncle Pain Wire, Uncle Hummer, Uncle Twister, and Uncle Forge send their love."

"Heh heh heh, I'm glad they've all managed to stay together," His carrier laughed mirthlessly, "I'm so grateful for my sire. I know you were in good servos with him. Have you trined yet, son?"

"That's not for another 20 vorns," Dirge told her, "So, do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes, but I won't be there very long," His carrier replied casually, "There's no point in giving you my address. I'm glad you comm'ed me though. This little dive is lovely, and this energon is the best I've tasted in over 100 vorns. The Decepticons might arrest me again, you know? I am an Empty now."

"If you move in with me that won't happen," Dirge offered, "I may not be of high rank, but I can still protect you. Stay with me and I'll make sure you have everything you need."

"I can't do that to you," She replied resolutely, "That would only make you look more suspicious in the optics of the Decepticons. Supporting me could cost you your job, your future trine, and maybe even your life. Don't worry Dirge, I know what I'm doing. Just keep your helm down and keep yourself safe."

"You sound just like Grandsire and my uncles," Dirge scoffed almost playfully, "They wouldn't stay with me either. Grandsire said he didn't want to impose."

"They're right," His carrier nodded curtly, "They're neutrals too, after all. You need to stick with your own kind, Dirge. You need to let everything about you announce loud and clear who you are."

"And who am I, Carrier?" Dirge asked with a twinge of regret.

"You are Dirge, son of Pall," His carrier said with conviction, "You are the honored son of a fallen Decepticon hero. You are strong, you are smart, and you are ambitious. You've wanted to make Cybertron powerful your entire life, and you will do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. When other mechs look at you, that is what they must see. They must believe that you are sure of yourself."

"But, I'm not," Dirge wavered.

"I know that," His carrier replied undeterred, "But that doesn't matter. Who you are inside is yours alone, but to keep yourself safe you must show the world a confident noble Decepticon seeker. Once you've made something of yourself, never look back. I know I don't intend to."

* * *

Dirge sighed when he remembered the last time he saw his carrier. He had forgotten that it was in this very tavern until he saw those maps on the wall. When she had said she was never going to look back, she meant it. Dirge was horrified four orns later when he found out she dove from the top of a building; taking her own life. She couldn't handle the discrimination against her and fear of returning to the gulags.

Back then Dirge felt anger toward her for leaving everyone else behind, because it meant he lost his chance to get to know her again. After that orn all he had were the stories his family would tell him about her. He was still a sparkling when she was arrested, so he didn't remember much about her, but he knew the shell of a femme he drank with that night wasn't the same person.

Dirge began to feel the sense of irony when he realized what he did for a living. He broke mechs and femmes the same way his carrier had been broken. She never got to meet his trine and she never got to see him rise through the ranks, and all because of the residual effects of her torment at the servos of mechs like him. It made him wonder who she saw in her nightmares.

The first light of dawn appeared in the sky, but Dirge still couldn't recharge. This orn was the first of the rest of his life. He was no longer an interrogator. He was a member of the secondary trine and a warrior under Megatron. He began to realize just how much he hated his old job, and he was also beginning to hope that he would never have to do anything like that again.


End file.
